My local YMCA is having a fitness challenge for the month of November called Thankfully fit. For every 8 classes you take, you are entered for a drawing on Thanksgiving day for things like: a month's free membership, a massage, personal training session, and goody bags. Since I'm a sucker for winning stuff, I've been diligent about taking at least one class a day.
Thursday is usually my "off" day at the gym since there isn't a class during the time I normally exercise. But there is "Cardio Kickboxing" at another time, and I've heard good things about it so I decided to give it a try.
I show up and say hi to the faces I recognize and they immediately ask me if I've gone potty yet. Um, excuse me? My friend explains that Gael makes us jump a lot in this class, and since I'm among those in the class that have given birth a time or two... well maybe I'd like to make sure I use the restroom. So I take their advice and Gael nods at me on my way out like she knows where I'm going and why.
Now... Gael is this tiny little Scottish maniac of muscle and accent. I like her. But she has the ability to grind any notion that you are fit into dust. She makes us groan and whimper in spin class. And when you think you're hanging on and doing well, she takes it up a notch and lets you know you're nowhere near you should/could be. In a good way of course. I mean who can be upset when a Scot is yelling at you to "POOSH!"
Anyway, back to the story. I flubbed and stumbled and made a general ass of myself in Cardio Kickboxing. I had to be told that I needed to be punching and kicking in the same spot since I am supposed to be kicking and punching a PERSON, and it doesn't quite have the same effect if I'm punching and kicking the air around them. And then when she had us putting 4 moves in succession? Fuhgetaboutit. I lost it. I made the class laugh. I made Gael laugh. I confessed that I have rhythm but no coordination, add in a good case of chronic-imbalance and I'm hopeless. Gael said I did surprisingly well for the first class and that I should have it down in a few weeks. I don't know if I can sustain that much humiliation for weeks on end. And on the way out, my friend said "after my first kickboxing class, I couldn't move my arms or back" I told her I did so poorly, that I didn't think muscle soreness was going to be a concern. Oooh boy was I wrong.
Waking up with sore muscles makes you suddenly remember all that you learned in anatomy class. "oh my god my Trapezius hurts", "whoa nelly, my Latissimus Dorsi is spasming" "holy crap, it hurts every time I contract my Biceps Brachii" and of course who can forget Michael (at the tender age of 16) in our body building class in high school shouting out the question "what about the Dongus Majorus?" Only to do laps or some form of PE teacher punishment for asking such things...
And no post is complete without pictures:
Miss Makenzie hanging out with me while we watch Brady's soccer practice... I think I said her name and caught this shot as she turned to me "Hmmm?"
Brady got to tag along with Michael and Uncle Larry to Norpoint Shooting Center (friends of Mike's own it). He got to shoot a 22, a M4, and an AR15. I think he floated 6 inches above the ground for the rest of the weekend.
His souvenir from the gun range. He couldn't wait to hang it up in his room. I'm a little bummed that it doesn't really match the decor in his room, but it makes him happy to have a shot-up terrorist hanging on his wall so what can a mom do?
While the boys were at the range, Natalie and I got some rare one-on-one time which was sweet. In this picture, she put on Mike's glasses and said "mom, get a shot of this and send it to Mike". She thought this would really zing him (they have a tendency to tease each other and I think she saw this as an opportunity to get him).
My kids spent Thanksgiving with their dad, so I enlisted Boo's help in peeling potatoes (just like the army!)
This was pretty much all Mike saw all day. Just the way he liked it. 
Yumaroo. Can't wait until next November!
