I know. Not normally a news flash. More like a daily occurrence. Hum drum, really, but this one was pretty foolish, and I think I will be feeling the effects for quite a long time.
After dropping Mitch off at school., Matty and I headed to the gym. Now, I am not a work-out guru, but I do go. I have never been one to actually enjoy working out (I think my endorphins are broken) but once I discovered the free child care, I have become a believer! Body, mind, and spirit, right? Whatever, as long as I have a little break from the hooligans!
I do get to the gym generally 5 times a week, and either run three or four miles each time or become one with the elliptical machine. So, not exactly a novice to exercise, but no iron man either.
Well, here comes the mistake. After dropping Matty off to the wilds of the childcare area, I headed up upstairs to go to the treadmill. Then, I saw a nice group of ladies waiting outside a group fitness room. They looked like me. Non-matching gym clothes. Absolutely no spandex to be found. Hmmmmm...I wonder. "What class are you waiting for?" I ask, completely unaware of my impending fate. "Oh, it's a Cardio Meltdown. It's really good, but I think there is a substitute today." Hmmmm again. Cardio? I can do cardio. Meltdown? I could use some lovehandle meltdown. Substitute? Rockin'. This brings back images of the bad kids in school taking advantage of the oblivious subs, like when Sam Palmer stuck the science movie we were supposed to watch inside the ribcage of the giant plastic human body when the sub was out of the room, and poor 99-year-old Mr. Lyman had no idea what to do for an hour. See, subs are fun, right?
Well, the "sub" was Andy....an incredibly well-built, mid 20's black gentleman, with a giant smile and an even larger masochistic streak. His blood stream was obviously coursing with uppers. His energy and enthusiasm for breaking us nice stay-at-home moms was unsettling. I should have faked an injury or migraine or PTA meeting and turned around and run the other way, but I didn't. I stayed.
Andy said that we would need some things for the class. His version of instruments of torture were two sets of hand weights, a cardio step, and a jumprope. Well, he piped in some upbeat techno music, and the torture began. We lunged. We jumped. We stepped. We did push-ups. We leapt. We raised our hand weights high into the air. We curled. We kicked. We whined. We cried. Nothing had an effect on this man. One woman even looked at me and lamented, "I think I am going to throw up." Andy just kept yelling, smiling, and doling out the punishment. What did he have against us?
Andy could not count. Here is an example: "And, 8 more. 7....6...5...4...3...2...and 8...7...6" See?!?
He used every last second of the hour. No 15 minute stretch and cool down today. Nosiree. His definition of stretching and cooling down was to simply put in a calming CD, yet continue to make us lunge and leap. Never have I been so angry at Enya.
Well, it finally ended, and I somehow managed to roll my puddle of a body into the car. After Matty and I picked Mitch up from school, I unlocked the door and truly contemplated the 18 steps required to get up to our apartment. What if I just lay at the bottom? Would the kids be self-sufficient enough? Could they put themselves to bed for a nap if I yelled loudly enough from my fetal position? Probably not, so I crawled up the stairs, being very careful not to make any sudden lunging movements. I then oozed into the shower, where I was not able to wash my hair, as I can not raise my arms any higher than my belly button. Just the act of typing right now is making me wince. Somehow, my fingers hurt. Or maybe they are just having sympathy pain for the rest of my muscles. I had no idea that the meltdown portion of Cardio Meltdown referred to a complete and total body shutdown.
Devil, thy name is Andy.
