Sunday, February 10, 2013
Sledding Isn't For Sisses
It was about ten minutes into our training session (or what I like to call "you have got to be frickin' kidding me!") when he introduced me to the fun sled's evil twin.....the push me until you want to puke sled.
Didn't know your cute little red sled had an evil twin? Well it does and it doesn't come with warm cocoa .
The girl in the picture on the left is pushing an exercise sled. Now mine didn't have extra weight , I didn't have on short shorts and I have no thigh muscles but otherwise you get the idea. Nick's idea was to have me push and pull it back and forth a couple of times and then run back and forth a few times.. He comes up with some great ideas, doesn't he? It is probably easier to think when you are just standing there with your heart pumping at a normal rate and you aren't thinking about your children as orphans. I can't say that for sure I am just guessing.
I was particularly concerned because my friend Pam had agreed to join me and I didn't want her having to tell my children how I died in a pool of my own sweat. First of all they would never believe her and second I was pretty sure the incident would scar her for life.
Being in my forties this is not the first time death has crossed my mind. I had always imagined I would choke on a Hershey kiss while reclining on my couch watching a Lifetime movie. Sweating under my breasts in an ugly outfit on scratchy green turf didn't sound like near as much fun and it certainly didn't make for a good story told around the casket. I had no choice but to survive until I could freshen up and apply lipstick.
The good news was that when my turn on the sled was over I would get a one minute water break and then it was on to lunges. Side lunges, forward lunges and backward lunges. lunge for the trainer's throat...oh wait that wasn't one of the ones we were supposed to do. See what happens when you are oxygen deprived? You start thinking crazy thoughts. Exercise is indeed dangerous for everyone involved.
Both Pam and I survived the hour and even though Pam said "she sweated in places she didn't remember existed" we are both going back on Tuesday. There comes a point where you realize that you aren't getting any younger. That body you so eagerly abused in the 80's has to last you for next 50 or so years. I don't regret the beer, the Ho-Hos or how I snubbed my nose at Jazzercise but now it is time to pay the piper. If working out means I will be able to play with my grandchildren then I will push the dreaded exercise sled.
But let me tell you one thing. If I make it to 95 I am going to lay down with a bad of Hershey kisses and turn on Lifetime.
Posted by Kimberly Eller at 11:08 AM