My Aerobics Instructor has a Streak of Satan

I tried a new class at my gym yesterday--barbell  strength. I am not new to lifting weights, but I am more into the hand weights and body bar. I did not even know how to load up the bar bell.

So I ask the instructor for help loading up the bar. She walks over with me to the bars and plates and begins pulling out the largest weights and placing them on the bar. She says just one on each side is a great starting point. She shows me how to lock them in place. And then hands me several smaller plates so I can load up on larger muscle exercises.

Now usually, I glance around the room and see what everyone else is doing but honestly I was so caught up in making sure I had my step, hand weights, bar and plates that I did not even notice.

Once the class began, the instructor said to get out the bar bell and we begin to do step ups. She continues stating "We might as well start with our bar bell since the goal is to use the bar bell for the entire class."

Without thinking I put the  bar bell on the middle of my shoulders and start to do step ups. And it's hard. It is only the first 5 minutes of class and  I. am. struggling. What type of wimp am I?

And then I finally glance around the room. Out of the 30 some people in the class, about 6 are  like me, struggling with a big ol' weighted bar bell. The rest are smiling and stepping up and down with a body bar (a weighted bar that is usually at the most 15 pounds). Every bone in my body wants to switch but I don't want to look like a wuss and the instructor was so kind to fix my bar for me.

The class continues and I follow my supposed sweet instructor's advice. She even comments to my fellow classmates taking the easy route "I know you didn't wake up at 5 am to look good. You came to work so add the weight."

The advice makes sense and I struggle to fatigue with each and every exercise. set.  and. movement. I make it through the class and although a tad sore, I am pleased with my work.

24 hours later, I am not so pleased. My walk is much like those of a much older generation. Reaching for the bowls in the cabinet is a task too painful to even consider. Walking the kids to their classrooms this morning is a scary thought. And going to my five am spin class? Unthinkable.

So today I have a choice. I can tell my friend I am meeting for breakfast and coffee the reason I am walking and grimacing with each step that I 1. took a weight class I was ill prepared for and need to spend more time at the the gym or 2. I took a weight class at the gym and the instructor was a crazed psychco path who wanted to bring pain to each and every student.

There is the answer that is the truth and the one that helps the ego as sore as my calves. I don't like to be sore and perhaps I myself have the streak of satan ;)

Facing My Fears, Making a Change

The hot yoga isn't working; the evening walks don't help. The scale in my bathroom is slowly creeping up and my clothes are getting tighter and tighter. Today, I slid into some cargo pants, the pants I bought for my right after Spanky was born stage, and they were snug. I quickly slid out and looked at the size--about 3 sizes bigger than I was wearing last fall. I went to the closet and looked at all my clothes, trying skirt after skirt, pants after pants. All tight.

I sighed. It was time to admit my yoga and walks weren't doing the job any more. Last fall, I was running--I was happy but my knees were in pain. I turned to yoga and walking. Everything was fine; I noticed a bit more clinging in some clothes but not much. I noticed my rear view in the side mirror at yoga was a bit more bubbly than usual but I brushed it off. Surely I was not getting f-a-t but I was. And here I am today, bursting in clothes that, a year ago, did not even belong in my closet.

I know what I need to do. I need to rejoin the gym my husband already goes to and go back to the heart pumping, intense spin and step classes I used to attend more religiously than church. And this means addressing a real issue I have. No, it's not being in a room filled with beautiful buff super models (at least they look like this to me). It's child-care.

See I have this thing about germs, specifically kids with runny noses. I don't know why this bugs me so much. I have this overwhelming fear my kid will get colds. I remember in play group with my oldest the moms discussing ear infections and RSV. It got to the point I could not breathe if I saw a child with a really nasty green snotty nose. I would seriously need to leave the room. I have not shared this with many people. Other moms used to discuss how they had germaphobia. I was relived until  I would say something like 'Isn't it so hard to go to the mall at Christmas' or 'I alway have to wash my hands and my kids' hands after they touch a menu in a restaurant' or 'I never eat from buffets'--the moms always seemed to look at me  funny and slowly back away. I knew my fear was irrational. 

My germaphobia came to a full blown problem when Spanky was born (and I didn't mind wearing those 3 sizes too big cargos). I was having problems going to church; I didn't want Dino going to school; I made everyone carry a bottle of Purell with them at all times. And then I saw a request on Dr.Phil's website asking if you were scared of your kids getting sick even though they never got sick. Well let's see--between my four kids, I have had a total of three sick visits, only one which required antibiotics (sinus infection)--and of course I am horrified of my kids getting the plague so I wrote in and two hours later they called. Originally the producers wanted to share my letter or maybe feature my phone call but after they talked to me and learned I was slowly becoming Howard Hughes--we were off to LA with Spanky. And this is where it gets crazy--I was a wreck about bringing Spanky on a plane with all the enclosed germs. I had visions of him developing a cough and getting a runny nose at 8 weeks old. We almost did not get on the plane. But we did and nothing happened. Later, we went to the very crowded Christmas Eve service, and nothing happened. We drove to Ohio, not a single runny nose. Dino went back to school, not one cough. I started to feel better. The kids got chicken pox; I was OK. No panic attacks and then two weeks ago, Dino had a cough and I did not sit up all night pacing, horrified it was RSV, and he would have a cough forever. He survived. 

So I think I might be ready to drop off my kids at one of the most germ infested areas of the free world, my small town gym child care. I believe it is time to face this fear and get stronger (mentally and physically). I do not want to live in seclusion so I can be super healthy but drop dead of obesity at age 45.

I know there will be colds, maybe even a stomach bug but I feel it is time for me to do this for me and my family. But I do think I will wash their hands before and after each visit ;)