Lost Track of the Days
Well, it only took a storm for me to stop procrastinating. I downloaded Cold Turkey again last night, but I don't really need it if Mother Nature is keeping me from my games by herself. (*chuckle*)
Friday, June 12
I had every intention of going to Alive with dilated eyes (first time ever dilating!). I figured that even with odd vision (it was just kind of like a blurry halo), I could at least manage the treadmill; if not my entire routine, weights and all. If I didn't find the workout area too bright, I could wear my glasses to sharpen my vision a little, or if it was too bad, I could probably wear my sunglasses in the private workout room and just tell the receptionists what I was doing.
Except for that whole "giant reaction thing".
I was doing fine up to that point. (Well, except for the part where the doctor bitched that my eyes were wiggling all over the place…but he's pretty strict, anyway.) We were winding up an exam and all of a sudden,
"Oh, man…I feel like I'm having a panic attack or something!"
My tummy was feeling strange (not nauseated…just weird), so I went and sat down on the floor (I was actually ready to lay on the floor) and grabbed my purse like a stuffie to help me work through it. I sat there and tried to take deep breaths as he got me a cup of water; then all of a sudden, I felt really hot. He told me it was a good ole fashion freakout (except he used the scientific word)…and he gets a couple of people who have them each year. (Typical that it should be me, right? *facepalm*)
So I just said "screw it", went home and laid down.
Which was a good thing, because I ended up having a nasty aftershock (where I really did feel nauseous) mere moments before my dad got home. (Read: I was lying on the floor of my bedroom and crying when he walked in.)
Trying a new class is all fine and good…until you realize that you're so out of shape that even sitting out in between songs doesn't help much. O.o
I tried zumba last week.
I never really planned on it; but I was like, "Sure. What the hell. Why not?"
I guess zumba is usually more structured than what I went to (at least, according to Wiki)…the instructor just put on her iPod and danced for forty-five minutes. (Can you even call them an instructor if they don't actually teach you anything? "Learning by mimicry" is not actual instruction in my book.)
It was a forty-five minute class and I thought sitting out every other song would help, but I still hit the wall by 5:25. I was going to sit out the rest of the class, but then "Lips are Movin'" started and I was like, "Can't sit out Meghan Trainor!", so I went back out.
I sat for a couple songs longer and thought I heard her call cooldown, so I went out for that…and there was another song after that.
That's when I finally walked out, knowing I couldn't recover by the end.
I was right. My legs hurt 'til Thursday.
The Rest of the Time
I never thought a regularly scheduled workout would be merciful; but when you go from a high energy dance class to twenty minutes on the treadmill and then your rounds on the weight machines, it seems much more gentle and low-key.
I was going to go this morning, as usual; but I got behind on the newspaper again and with the storms coming in, I didn't think it was a good idea. Plus, I thought it might be wise to save my muscle strength for tomorrow night, when I finally try Pound. (I couldn't go last Tuesday because my muscles hurt still and I skipped Thursday because I wanted to be able to walk the rest of the weekend.)
I'll be limping for the rest of the week, surely, but I really want to try that class.
(And yes, I stretch. Thoroughly. With everything I can remember from thirteen years of dance.)