My friend’s friend gave me a long, inspiring rant the other night about how all you need to get fit is running, push-ups, and rock climbing. He told me about how he’s gradually built up his endurance and muscle from simple home exercises. Which is very well and admirable for him.
I have less willpower than that. The only way I can get myself to do push-ups is if someone’s screaming at me to do them, so I decided to start going to classes at my local YMCA. I was already going to the gym, and the classes are free with membership, so why not? Maybe they could make me push myself a little more.
Nothing’s more motivating than doing kickboxing with a tiny 60-year-old woman who not only has more endurance than you, but is also more flexible and more muscular than you.
The younger people in my classes casually talk about how many half-marathons they’re running this year.
When you’re lifting weights next to a pregnant woman who looks like she’s ready to burst into labor any second now, you know that there are no excuses.
These classes can push you hard. In a free weights class I go to, the instructor takes pleasure in her students’ pain.
It doesn’t help that I was never fit to begin with. I have zero core or upper body strength, a fact that I discovered very quickly.
These classes are exhausting, but they definitely make me try harder than I ever would on my own. I don’t know if they’re working, but I’ll keep trying! It’s for my health, after all.
Geez, I’m such a try-hard. Oh, well. Hey, if I keep trying, maybe one day I can look like this!
(Though I’m willing to settle for less.)