Maybe I Should Warm Up Before Jumping Back Into This Blogging Business

Seeing as how I hurt myself at the gym yesterday, I am super pumped that today is Friday.

Get it? That's Beyonce, getting pumped? Get it?
Get it? That’s Beyonce, getting pumped? Get it?

I was at the hideously misnamed Club Strength. Our also hideously misnamed instructor, Meaghan* had set up various torture stations around the perimeter of the class workout room. We were to go around the room in groups of two and do whatever “exercise” was assigned at each torture station for 1.30 minutes and then move on to the next one.

(*I say misnamed because  all the Meaghans or Megans or Schmegans or whatevers I know have been really pleasant and this one was a group class instructor; ie: Meaghan McMeanies)

Here’s the main issue: I don’t want to work out with a buddy. Sure, Meaghan assured us that we weren’t competing with each other, we were “just suffering through this together,” but still. I don’t want to work out with another solitary person doing the same thing next to me. I don’t like to grunt and struggle next to another person. That’s why I don’t invite XFE to sit on the edge of the tub while I take a crap. “It’s ok. We’re not competing here or anything, we’re just suffering through this together.”

Also, that’s why I’m in a class, see? Trying to blend in inconspicuously in the back of a room filled with a bunch of other people. I do not want any one-on-one attention while I’m sweating and grunting and generally failing at basic body skills such as lifting something and then putting it down, or raising my head off the floor and then putting it down.

But no. Meaghan had her plan. It was going to be fun. We were “mixing it up.”

The real reason they're extinct. They couldn't get through Club Strength.
The real reason they’re extinct. They couldn’t get through Club Strength.

To make matters worse, but only marginally, I was paired with an octogenarian who wanted to regale me with tales of missing vertebra. I assured her I didn’t care how many reps she could do and was only focusing on my own pain, and then we got to our lopsided workout. Oh, and when I say lopsided, I mean my old work out buddy basically kicked my ass and was able to complete more reps than me on all but one torture station (a sit up station. Guess you need vertebra for those. Suck it, octogenarian.)

We were two stations away from completing our second rotation of torture when I injured myself. It was an alternating-elbow-plank-with-side-shoulder-rotations move. I was huffing along, sucking in my gut (also known as “engaging your core”) when I over rotated while alternating elbows and fell full on my left shoulder. I thought I heard a pop.

The move. Pardon the selfie, I just couldn't find a good image to use.
The move. Pardon the selfie, I just couldn’t find a good image to use.

I crawled to a corner and gathered up my pride so I could complete the last two torture stations (with modified moves, of course). I think my octogenarian workout buddy was secretly relieved.

The whole episode was painful and very embarrassing and really makes me want to swear off all group classes forever. I didn’t dislocate my shoulder or anything like that, but it’s still pretty tender a day later. I think my career as a professional plank artist is over. Apparently, my wimpy useless pasta arms are incapable of holding up my body weight for approximately 1.30 minutes. Awesome.

So in the spirit of failing at fitness, I bring you this video, which I stole from this funny girl. It made me laugh and feel slightly better.

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