Well folks, it's that time of year again... We're into the second month of those New Years resolutions to lose weight, quit smoking, hit the gym, get back to that pre-baby, pre-husband, prima donna body we had in the past, etc., etc.... Well, I for one can say that I've never been too keen on making resolutions, simply because I don't enjoy feeling like a failure when I'm unsuccessful at keeping to them. But- that said, I've got one this year and I must say I'm doing a pretty damn good job keeping up on it.
You see, there's this class. A boot camp if you will. This hour of the week has conquered the task of kicking my ass this past Wednesday. So much so that I had trouble walking (and especially up & down stairs) until this past Sunday. So I showed my sore little ass up for it again this week. Why? Because I'm hell bent on getting rid of this post-twin pregnancy, unsightly "extra" me as I might call it. And I've got to say, I've never been one on taking exercise classes either... Dance, you betcha, but these rooms full of sweaty, sticky hot messes of people have not really been appealing to me.
That is until now.
I am a fanatic.
Those first 15 minutes spent in each class, the cycle, step, boot camp, ball training, whatever. Those first 15 minutes are grueling, intimidating, & exhausting. Had there not been a room full of people (many well into their 50's), sticking it out, I would have jumped ship. In other words, had I been cycling by myself, my ass would have been off the seat at the 15 minute mark. And possibly seconds before. The mere fact that these 20-something strangers were in the room doing it with me gave me the will to stick it out. And let me tell you, those first 15 minutes are the toughest. Perservere past that & you're golden. Just saying.