Whatchoo lookin' at, Willis?

So, I walk into the gym Saturday morning for the 9:30 FIT class. My coach from the 10-week program is there, and he looks at me like, "What is the world are YOU doing here?" The room was rather empty, considering people were practically lined up out the door last week for the 7:30 class.

The instructor happened to be Randy, the gym leader. I should have known what I was in for at that moment, but I have yet to be frightened DURING a class. I've feared the unknown more than anything up to this point.

"Everyone grab a jumprope!" shouts Randy.

Yay. Jumprope. The last time I jumped rope at Farrell's, I practically soiled my pants.

We started out easily enough with ten seconds on, ten seconds off. Then we gradually increased until we were jumping rope for five minutes straight. Five minutes may not seem like eternity, but when you're jumping up and down and whipping a rope under your toes at the same time, you get a pretty good idea of what Hell must be like.

The kicker was that if you tangled the rope three times within the five minutes, you were done. And you got to do a plank. So, if you used up all your tangles within the first minute, like me, you got to plank it for four solid minutes. You really get in touch with your core that way, I tell you.

Then we moved on to push-ups. I'm pretty proud that I can do a single push-up these days, so I didn't think this would be so bad. Until Randy passed out pairs of four-pound medicine balls. Push-ups with your hands on the medicine balls. On your toes.

I couldn't feel my arms. That's called muscle failure. I told them to move, and they ignored me.

Randy seemed to be proud of me, told me that was my goal. But I was still hallucinating from all the jumproping.

Then it was on to kickboxing. Jabs and crosses.

Randy comes over and says, "Your arms are still pretty tired, aren't they? I'm sorry."

He leaves, and a few seconds later returns to say, "You know I'm really NOT sorry, right?"

Yeah, I got that.

I'm still having a hard time moving my calves. I actually took a whirlpool bath when I woke up this morning I was so stiff and sore. I regained the use of my legs, and I fully intend on attending class tonight. I'm a glutton for punishment.

I have a very vain reason for my gluttony now, though. Warning: VERY VAIN! I took the kids swimming Friday afternoon. I wore my new Nike two-piece for the first time in public. I must say, Nike makes an excellent swimsuit. I feel like I'm all put away and decent. They employ some secret fiber in the suit that makes you feel all Gabrielle Reese, even if you aren't. Anyway, remember how I marveled at the Two-Piece-Wearing-Pool-Moms last summer? Especially the older ones with more than one child in tow?

Well, it was ME getting the stares and sideways glances this time.

I felt pretty awkward. After all, they were probably just trying to protect their eyes from the glare off my stretch marks. But I do rock that two-piece. I've earned the right to say that after the past twelve weeks. Or, heck, even from just this past Saturday. ROCK ON!