What's the first rule of Zombieland?
It's been a while since I've been in decent shape, so when I joined a gym recently, my intent was merely to move my ass. I try not to have crazy expectations, but you know how that goes.
I notice there's a hula hoop class once a week at my gym. I think, "Well that sounds like fun!" — fully knowing that my success at keeping a hoop above my hips for more than three rotations is... pretty much nonexistent. That's OK! I will learn and surely I will not be the only derpity-derp in the class.
WRONG. Commence to DERP.
Stubbornness comes in handy because after five minutes, it was clear my cardio endurance level is somewhere in the Marianas Trench. I persist. Shocker, I'm beginning to get the hang of it. AWESOME.
"Okay, step left. Step right. Move foward..." Lady, you're insane. If you think I can move AND keep this hoop up, you have blown an important gasket up top.
Thankfully Hoopmistress is sympathetic and actually quite encouraging to my Derpness. I'm praised for not quitting (thank you, stubbornness!).
Anyway, I finish the HOUR LONG CLASS (dead) and despite epic derpitude, am proud of myself. In the locker room, a fellow classmate tells me I may experience bruising.
CUT TO: this morning and the wrap of hurt around my midsection. OY. Is it my abs? Is it the cushy spare tire that's supposed to protect my guts like gladiator armor? WHO KNOWS?! Everything in that area ouches in some capacity. I feel like I was taking punches.
Am I going back? Yes.