I joined the local YMCA a few months back and have been lightly salting my schedule with yoga classes. The classes have ranged in level of difficulty, but none was more than I can handle.
Last evening, I decided to add a “circuit blast” class to my rigorous exercise routine as it promised an hour of cardio, weight-lifting, and “limited to no choreography.” Perfect. The last bit of the description really sealed the deal. To understand why, please visit my “about me” page. I got to the gym a little bit early so I hopped on the treadmill for 5 minutes at a fairly good clip to get my heart-rate up since all this bone-chilling weather makes me want to do is swaddle myself in blankets on the sofa. I was feeling nice and warm when it was time for the class to start. I got my mat, my step, and my 3 sets of weights all set up. I was ready to kill it. There were people my age and people twice my age in the class so I imagined I would at least fall somewhere in the middle of the pack in terms of fitness.
Well, we started off with a lot of cardio that required more coordination than I could muster. But that was ok; I flailed my way through it. After all, I wasn’t trying out for a dance competition. Clearly. About 15 minutes in, I had about reached my limit of kicking, punching, jumping, hopping on one foot and balancing at the same time. Then we started with the weights.
I started to feel faint. My ears were ringing, my face was hot but my sweat felt cold.
I plowed through 478 squats with weights. My yoga breathing really helped with this. I was audibly huffing and puffing. Too bad my breathing skills don’t help with coordination.
Towards the end of the class, I had to do every other exercise so I didn’t pass out. It was a serious concern. Every lunge-jump from the floor to the step while swinging weights over my head was a struggle. It seemed my two poached eggs on toast that I had for lunch had ditched me hours ago and I was running on fumes and electrolyte and fluoride-infused water that I had purchased just before class.
With 10 minutes left in the class, I was genuinely concerned that I might lose consciousness. I put away my torture equipment and headed to the locker room to collect myself and splash water on my face. I looked as white as a ghost. Time to call it a day. I walked over to the stairs and as I started down the first step my leg almost gave out. I clutched the railing to save any dignity that wasn’t left behind in my class. Each step was a near-death-experience. I somehow managed to get to the bottom of the stairs using mostly my arms and feeling like Gumby.
As I got to the car, I was fiercely craving salt. I guess I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. Continuing my healthy choices for the day, I came home and ate some cheddar and sour cream Ruffles potato chips and felt markedly better. And my legs were sore already.
This is not good.
I’m afraid to go back.
But I need to face my fears.
I just need a few more handfuls of chips first.
Y’all stay active,