I was all excited to get to Zumba class today, and I wanted to make sure my car would make it out of the driveway (thanks to all the ice from this week's storm, being stuck in one's driveway is a distinct possibility) so I got up an hour earlier than usual and got all the kids dressed and into the car and to the bus stop and to the Y and into their respective childwatch rooms at least 10 minutes early. And it paid off cuz there was plenty of room, whereas most Friday mornings find me running in five minutes after class has started, pushing my way into a spot at the back of the class.
Oh, and speaking of my spot in the class, guess what!?!!/!??!/1?
My girlfriend T, who teaches the class, told me she wanted me up front because I can move.
*side note: My baby has this cute new thing she does when she's excited or upset or at any other sudden onset of emotion: she tucks her little fists up under her chin. That might be what I did just then. :)
So I was in front for today, which felt pretty good for the most part, because I know most of the routines by heart. (Which just might be because I put on the music and practice while I'm washing dishes. And putting away go-backs at work. Just maybe.) But it made me feel all double-stupid when I'd misstep, or slip on the gym floor. Hee. That's OK though, I know God's just tryin to keep me humble. It's an ongoing struggle, that. :)
Oh, but now? I'm all sore and stuff! I went to pick up the kids from their rooms and in each room they asked if I was picking up or if I was just checking in before going upstairs (to do weights) and I was like, "OH noes, just picking up." Last week I did go upstairs to do weights after Zumba and paid dearly at work the next day. I'm pretty sure all my coworkers wanted to kill me, listening to me whine about how dead I was.
Oh, and will someone please tell me why, after working out, I just want to take a four-hour nap?! I thought working out was supposed to be invigorating! Something tells me it's cuz I've been eating so crappily--you know, not "feuling my workout". (Hm, y'think?!)
I have to (HAVE TO have to have to) stop this 2-week binge I've been on. Seriously, I don't know what the heck is wrong with me. Do I like feeling like crap? Let me answer that. No! I like the way I feel when I'm eating right and exercising. So why on earth is it so hard to continue doing the right things when I know that will make me feel so much better, for so much longer than the momentary deliciousness of some gooey chocolate thing?!
I'm not even going to tell you what I weigh right now, because I know it's all water weight my body's retaining in retaliation for all the salt and sugar and stuff I've been ingesting.
Ask me in a week.