03.01.2003 - 3:10 p.m.
Saturday
It sure is beautiful outside
today in Seattle. No chill in the air, blue sky everywhere you
look. A sunglasses day, a t-shirt and light fleece day, a spring-is-in-the-air
day. And my yard is sprinkled with yellow daffodils and blue
and purple and white crocuses. I just want to roll in the grass
whinnying.
Although I can't, because every
muscle in my body has been systematically pounded with the business
end of a meat tenderizer. From the hour and a half long
kickboxing class I was foolish enough to take this morning.
Oh, I realize this is a diary
trend for me. Because I can't seem to stick with a regular exercise
program, I'm constantly out of shape when I take these horrible
classes and then I whine to you about how it hurts, you
guys, really.
But today was above and beyond
what any human can stand. Well, except for the 30 other people
in the class who seemed to do just fine. Fuckers. The thing is,
normally when a class is really really hard, you can look at
the clock at the fifty minute mark and think, whew, we're gonna
be stretching soon. A 90-minute class? You don't get to do that.
At the fifty minute mark she's making you do evil things with
hand weights and running in place and high kicks and your lungs
are threatening to explode from your body out through your
nose and there is no stretching in sight for you, my friend.
We had to partner up to do
some punching drills. That's always embarrassing, having to struggle
to keep breathing/keep up with the pace/not projectile vomit
in front of a total stranger. At one point the pint-sized instructor
(who could kick Vin Diesel's ass with both hands tied behind
her back) had us doing uppercuts. Really fast. Then faster. Then
she yelled "FLURRY!!!!"
Flurry, apparently, is where
you punch so fast your arms become a complete blur.
For like, 5 minutes.
Not so great, the flurry.
And there were plenty of other
tortuous activities, like complicated kicking drills and Lipizzaner-esque
raised knee ("Get those knees higher! HIGHER!")
prancing. Before it was all over, I thought I was going to have
to be MedEvac'd the fuck out of there.
At least she plays really kick-ass
music the whole time. Unlike the Ghetto Gym, where I have heard
not only "Ice Ice Baby", but much more annoyingly,
the hopped-up version of "Smooth Criminal" at every.
Single. Class.
"Annie are you okay?
Are you okay? Are you okay Annie? Annie are you okay? Are you
okay?Are you - "
(Speakers detonate with a loud
blasting sound, and Sundry, who wears an expression of sweet
relief, firmly pumps the empty shells from her double-barrel
shotgun with one arm.)
But, like I was saying, it's
a lovely day outside and I think I'll take the dog for a nice
long walk. Must
just
get
legs to
work.
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I have moved. - 1.03.2005 Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004 Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004 Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004 Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004
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