When I started going back to the gym last week, I braced myself
for the same 30+ days of aches and pains that I’d experienced 18 months ago,
when I got serious about working out for the first time in years.
As it
turns out, my sporadic runs at fitness during the intervening time actually HAVE
done me some good.
Yes, the
first couple of days were rough—in fact, I spent most of my Saturday last week
laying in bed and groaning (but only AFTER I got my yoga class out of the way)—but
with the help of a morning dose of ibuprofen each day, I gotta say, it’s not so
bad.
I attend
a “bootcamp” (lots of reps of light-ish weights, lots of jumping up and down,
all with very little time in between) 3 times a week. I was smart enough to
tell the instructor that I was going to ease back into it—20 minutes the first
day, 25 the second, and so on—but on Wednesday, I was a 40 of the 50 or so minutes.
I still
have to take more breathers than the super-fit chick who’s been the only other
attendee during this holiday week, and I still don’t get to ALL of the reps in
a particular set, but I figured it would be end of the year before I could do
that, even painfully. It looks like it’s going to be a lot sooner than that.
This is
what, in weight watchers, they call a “non-scale victory”. And since I’m notoriously
bad at celebrating those, I thought I’d better celebrate this one, stat.
I DIDN’T
completely reset to day 1 since day 1.
Yay me.
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