I’ve NEVER been into weightlifting. I’ve tried. I’ve researched. I’ve made spreadsheets. I even made a fancy pants powerpoint slideshow. To date, each of these tactics has failed. I just can’t get into it. I admit (somewhat shamefully) to the list of reasons why I thought I hated the idea of weightlifting:
1.) I (thought) I’d burn more calories doing cardio
2.) I didn’t want to get big and beefy cakey or she-manish
3.) It’s boring
4.) I don’t understand it
5.) If I don’t see results or some sort of numerical indicator of my success (i.e., miles ran, lbs lost), then it’s clearly not worth my time.
On and on.
Despite this apparent disdain for weightlifting, I HATE how weak my body is. I have internal anguish every time I have to ask for help carrying, lifting, opening, hauling etc. I’m a strong independent women, so why can’t I carry a 75 pound entertainment center by myself? Why can’t I open this friggin jar of banana peppers? Who says I can’t rotate a queen size mattress by myself? My baby muscles, that’s who.
For months I’ve been hearing about Body Pump. Body Pump is an full-body strength training class that utilizes a bar bell and “rockin music” … It sounded interesting, but my gut told me it wouldn’t hold my interest. When I finally got my YMCA membership lined up, I felt like the pass was burning a hole in my pocket. I HAD to try Body Pump. STAT.
This past Saturday was my very first class. I was pretty apprehensive, but I went in there and gave it my all (as shockingly little as that was). As I left class, I felt pretty excited. It went by crazy fast and it was definitely challenging. Two steps into my exit I realized my legs were not quite so excited. I was literally week in the knees. I had to physically concentrate on stabilizing myself so that they didn’t give out from under me!
When I got home, I jumped in the shower and quickly realized washing my hair was extremely difficult. It took everything I had to lift my arms high enough to touch the top of my head… And all I had, whelp, it wasn’t enough. I actually had to scrunch my head down to meet my hands half way. Later, I realized sitting was difficult. As in sitting in a chair, sitting on the toilet… actually anything that involved any sort of movement was difficult… borderline impossible actually.
The next morning I went shopping, and actually went home EARLY because my arms were too tired to carry bags. WHAT?!?!?
Holy hell I was sore.
This much SORE must mean I did something right. Maybe there is something to this weightlifting thing after all…
to be continued….