Progress

     This past June I joined a gym.  The first fitness class I attended there was a Kickboxing Class.  It was a horrible experience.  The only reason I survived to the end of the class was because I came with a friend and didn't want to slink off in humiliation.  I'm not sure how much I fooled my friend, but I definitely wasn't fooling the instructor.  She was one of those instructors who stays up front the whole time, but she stepped down from her podium to offer me adapted versions of some of the moves.  That's how badly I was failing.  She did it in kindness, but it was still mortifying.  Especially because I really needed it.  When the class was over, I wobbled down the stairs and into the shower as quickly as I could before bursting into silent tears.
     Then I promptly retreated to Water Aerobics with the grandmas and expectant mothers for the next couple of months, occasionally venturing upstairs for a half hour on the treadmill.  Eventually I built up some stamina and discovered several dance and yoga classes that I really enjoy and I now feel very much at home in the gym.   I have, however, very deliberately avoided kickboxing.
    Tonight I slipped off for a workout while Rob was putting the boys to bed.  I don't usually hit the gym in the evening, but today was especially hectic and there just wasn't any room for an earlier workout.  I intended to spend an hour on an elliptical machine, but given the fact that it is January, the place was packed.  Every elliptical machine was already occupied by someone who'd also had a too-busy-to-get-here-earlier Monday, but managed to get there just a little earlier than me.
     But there was a Kickboxing class just getting started so I decided to give it a try.  Probably it wouldn't kill me, right?  The class was led by a different instructor this time, a get out there and wander the floor type of instructor who spent half the class, shouting out encouragement, correcting poses, yelling "C'mon!  Harder!!!" in people's faces...you know the type.  She gave me a high five.  Because I was doing a good job.  I felt like a Kindergartner receiving a gold star.  Sometimes, even though you know it's silly, little things just totally light you up inside.
     I did the whole class.  No modifications.  I even managed the "three jumping jacks, a push-up, three more jumping jacks" thing.  I managed that with very little grace and probably looked like a complete idiot, but I did it.  I left the class feeling that good tired, pumped up, coulda gone a little longer feeling.
     I'm so proud of myself.  I haven't lost as much weight as I'd like and I don't really think I look that much different, but I feel so much better and every now and then I have one of these before and after moments when I realize how much I have grown and it just feels really really good.
     I still totally prefer dancing though.  It's just so much more happy.  But now I know that I could do kickboxing, you know, if I wanted to.