Why I'd Get Voted Off The Biggest Loser.

I would, it's true. Probably not first or second, but I wouldn't make it to the end. Well, maybe for 250K, I would, but even then... I doubt it. You see, I start off with great intentions. I get excited, I get others excited. I'm all pumped up when I start. But then? Then I start the actual physical agony, and I lose steam about half way through.

That was the case today. I got to boot camp, and dropped baby C off in the day care room. Once again the flesh of my blood, my first-born, deserted me without a backward glance? REALLY, kid?? Ugh. So, I heaved myself outta there, and headed to the gym. We started off by running laps. I still hate running, but I hate it a lot less when it's indoors. Me and Nature are natural foes. I am TERRIFIED the slave driver will make us run outside, and I will slip and fall. As aforementioned in another post, me and winter weather don't mix. So, I was happy to haul my fat ass around the gym. I ran 3 laps, walked 1, and ran the rest. I don't know how many we ran, I lost count.

Next up, we jumped rope. I don't look forward to this. Not because of the physical exertion (but don't be fooled, I huff and puff more than the big bad wolf), but because I am completely lacking in coordination.  I'm pretty sure a one legged man with hooks for hands would be better at it than I am. I am forever tripping over the rope. We were ordered to then jump just on one leg, then just on the other. Um, excuse me? I'm fat. I'm not so sure one leg can support all that flab flying around. I kept thinking that I hoped they were insured, since I was destined to fall.

After (attempting) to jump rope, we did chariot races. I still like these, I think they are fun. Mostly because I can slow whoever my partner is down with my sheer fat-ness. Woohoo, I excel at something!! Shantel really gave me a run for my money though, and the elastic bands were digging into me. When I was done, I was fairly certain I had severed an artery in my stomach somewhere from the pressure. We did those for a while. I've found at boot camp, it's a lot better to NOT keep count of how many of something you are doing. That way you can try to trick yourself into thinking it's a lot less than it really is.

After that, we all lined up at one end of the gym. We were ordered to sprint as fast as we could to the other end, drop and do 10 push ups. Jump up, run back, drop and do 9 push ups. Jump up, run back and do 8 and so on and so forth. Um, didn't we already run?? This was tough. Not so much the push ups, but the running. Half way through, I was exhausted. I kept trying to tell myself there was a big ole Krispy Kreme Donut at the other end of the gym, but I couldn't fool myself.

When we were done with that bit of torture, we paired up. One person did a wall squat while the other ran to the other end of the gym and jumped up and down off of a big step 20 times. I heard somebody say "Wow, it's a lot tougher than it looks!" and thought I was screwed, because it already looked damn near impossible. I don't care what you say about muscle weighing more than fat. It's a croc. I'm all fat, and it's a LOT to heave it a few feet into the air. Besides, 1 pound of fat weighs the same as 1 pound of muscle. This is where I got lucky. Either we had an uneven number, or somebody went and puked in the bathroom for all the exercise, cause I ended up with no partner. So guess who didn't do the 20 jumps a zillion times? I know, only cheating myself. But my knees and ankles sure are thanking me tonight!

Next up were these God-awful stations that got worse with every rotation. Leg kicks with stretchy bands, lunges holding huge exercise balls while twisting, back elevated lunges with weights, butt raises with exercise balls and finally running up and down (one step, over and over. And over. AND OVER) on the bleachers. Hideous. By this point my shirt was soaked, my hat was drenched, and I wanted a juice box and a mat to nap on.

But no. Then we ran some more laps. I don't know how many, I was too busy sobbing quietly, and wishing it was MY kid who had busted his mouth open (you are SO lucky, Jess).

More wall squats. Raising our heels off the ground while doing them. More sprints, and touching the ground (I was wondering if "touching" the ground counted if I collapsed?), and then wall kicks all in a row. I may have left some things out. I really tried to block it out as it went along.

Seriously, halfway through, I was ready to quit. I was wondering WHY in the effity eff I had signed up for this misery. I could be at home, in sweats, curled up with the fire on. Once again, I was near vomiting several times. And this was only ONE HOUR! On the biggest loser, they do this crap for like 8 hours a day!

We'll see how I feel in the morning. The rest of today wasn't bad. It was tough getting Chubby Lumpkins to the car, but after that, I was fine. My muscles aren't horrendously sore, so that's a step in the right direction. We'll see what tomorrow brings.