Well, I made it to the gym last night and when my trainer found out that Holly wasn't joining us, her response was "Oh, ok, then I'm going to work you out really hard today."
Cause, um, I don't know why. Holly is actually in a bit better shape than me. Maybe my trainer thought that if I made it through this one mind-blowing workout, I'd somehow be more in line with Holly upon our next workout. Yeah, um, there's not a lot of logic in that mode of thinking so who really knows what her reasoning was. I don't question. I just "do".
My half-hour workout actually ended up being a hour because I got to the gym early and needed to burn some time. I jumped on the treadmill at 3.5 for 10 minutes with a 7 incline (gonna feel that in my butt tomorrow). After that I did the rowing machine for 500 meters and the ab-thingamajiggy for 40 reps with a 7 lb ball. Then back on the treadmill for another 10 mins while I waited for the trainer.
Before she even walked in the door, I was sweating but I felt good and was thinking I'd be able to handle just about anything she threw at me. Then she said she was going to work me hard. She's never said that before. I should have been afraid. Very afraid.
My heart was about to burst out of my chest for the next 30 mins. She started with 50 bicycle kicks, 50 hip pushes, and 50 superman-something-or-others with a 7lb ball on my neck. Then ... and this is when the true torture started ... she had me do something she called "21-15-9".
I did 21 reps of each of these exercises: box jumps, burpees (worst. exercise. ever.), and dead weight lifts. Then I did 15 reps of the same exercises which was then followed by 9 reps of each. As if trying to complete the tasks wasn't torture enough, this whole thing was, of course, timed.
I made it through the workout and managed to do the full three sets in 18 mins.
At that point my arms felt like rubber. My legs were shaking. And my heart was very close to heart-attack range.
I have never ever in my life been more thankful for the cool down period.
So, tonight I'm downing ibuprofen like it's going out of style and crossing my fingers (well, I'd be crossing them if I could move them without pain shooting up my arm) that tomorrow I'll be able to move without crying out in pain.
Thankfully Carrie and I aren't walking tomorrow so I'll have at least a day to recoup. Saturday I have a hike planned and Sunday is a hike (hopefully) and/or a horse ride. Monday it's back to the regular weekly routine of a 4 mile walk at lunch and afternoon butt-kicking repeat of today's gym adventure minus the trainer.
This had soooo better make a difference on the scale!