I started off this week with my first trip to the gym in months. I can really only bare to be working out indoors when the weather is too cold be outside and I haven't lifted since completing P90X. For some reason I assumed completing the P90X program would keep me in tip top shape for a year. Boy was I wrong. I lifted on Monday and Tuesday with my insane husband trainer. It was hard and I felt weak. I hated it.
On Monday we concentrated on chest and I didn't find it too bad. I was sore the next day, but it was a good sore. I like it when I know that I did something the day before. I went back to the gym on Tuesday for more punishment. This time we did nothing but biceps. On Wednesday I was very sore, or at least I thought I was very sore. I had no idea how much the soreness would intensify as the days went on. I thought Wednesday was bad, but Thursday was much worse. I had a hard time just getting through the normal course of the day. Lifting my arms past shoulder level was simply impossible and there wasn’t a square inch of my back that didn’t kill if touched in any way.
I actually starting to have feelings of, “I’m getting to old for this nonsense? Why do I do this to myself? I think I should retire from torturing my body.” I was getting comfortable with giving up on the idea of killing myself to stay in great shape. Life would be so much easier if I just let go of this impossible ideal. And this blissful thought lasted for at least 14 hours.
Then last night I went to line dancing class. I talked to a new friend and got the report on how she did in her very first triathlon. She really inspired me and I made a comment like, “You go girl. I wish I could do it.” That led to her saying, “Hey, maybe next year we can do it together as a team.” My eyes immediately widened and twinkled. I jumped up and shook her hand, “You’re on. Let’s start training in the Spring.” I went home so excited I couldn’t sleep.