I started lifting weights a few weeks ago. For real lifting, not just waving around five pound dumbells for few minutes after step class. Real weights in that one room in the gym where most ladies never go – with the grunting super-flexed up protein shake drinking megamen. It’s a little weird but I’ve been doing well so far. Since I go on base, the kids in there all call me “ma’am” and have been much nicer than I thought. I was pretty intimidated at first but I go on the days when the gym is less crowded and the guys in there have been surprisingly helpful and welcoming. Who knew?
Yesterday was the first day I was supposed to “exert maximum effort” and do three sets instead of two. It was also the first day I was supposed to do squats. I’ve never done squats. But I’ve never missed a day since I started and I’m determined not to be a nancy and to do what I’m supposed to. That’s how you get results, right?
So I do the three sets of fifteen weighted squats. And I think I might actually fall down and never get up again while I’m doing them; my thighs were screaming. But I did them. This maybe was a mistake since now I can barely walk – it feels like someone beat my thighs with a bat. You know that trembly-legged feeling you have after really good sex? Where your legs are so wobbly you don’t think you can make it to the bathroom after? I felt like that yesterday for three hours after my workout. I probably should have started slower with the squats no matter what the book said. It’s like the book said, “Here, drink this entire box of wine. You’ll be fine.” And instead of saying, “Yo, that might be too much wine for me,” I went ahead and drank the whole box. I know I’m walking about as well as I would have after chugging a gallon of Franzia so maybe I should have just gotten hammered instead.
But the best way to get un-sore is to stay on the program so I’ll be back there Tuesday doing my thing.