Earlier this year, when I was a wee bit chubby from the holidays, I decided to join a gym. And just this month, when I was still a wee bit chubby from karma probably, I decided to ramp it up a bit by going to my first-ever group fitness class.
As I've stated before, I'm normally not into doing things that involve a lot of other human beings. I kayak, but I've turned down many a group kayak excursion. I strum a guitar, but I choose not to sit in on any pick-n-grins -- mainly because when I start playing my guitar, it becomes a pick-n-grimace.
But something has to be done about my ab -- my great big ab. And, yes, I mean ab and not abs because I just see one big belly where abs are allegedly supposed to reside.
Joining this fitness class all started when my buddy Shane dropped by the house for a little whine. And, yes, I mean whine and not wine. He had taken his first group fitness class that day -- something called Insanity. He could barely move and went on and on about how horrific it was. Yet, he suggested my wife and I try it. That's a lot like smelling something horrible and then saying, "Here, smell this."
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Trying something called Insanity for your first-ever group fitness class is, well, a little insane. It's like believing your kindergartner has a knack for numbers and signing them up for a quantum physics class.
Now, I can lift a pretty good bit of weight for a geeky former tennis player. But this Insanity is something different. It involves a lot of jumping, bending, stretching and something called cardio. I thought cardio was some kind of car radio but it actually is a method by which ex-Nazi physical trainers suck all the oxygen out of your body to the beat of bad music.
After an hour or so, you are released from the classroom and allowed to proceed to your home or nearest hospital and inhale oxygen for a few hours like it's something you've just discovered and really, really enjoy. Unfortunately, I was deprived of that oxygen throughout the class, leading to a substantial amount of brain damage -- enough that I might find reality TV entertaining now.
But the fun truly begins the next
morning when you get out of bed. Or try to.
Or try to walk to the bathroom or anywhere. You walk like you aged 40 years overnight and someone jabbed steak knives into your calves while you were asleep -- or as our fitness instructor would call it, a good burn.
Supposedly, this is all good for our health. I'm sure we burned a lot of calories during the Insanity class, but I'm not sure we burned a whole lot limping around the house for the past few days. We probably burned a thousand calories during the class and collected two thousand extra sitting around the house -- unless you can burn calories whining about how bad your calves hurt, in which case we may be OK.
I'm also not sure it's so good for the health of our fitness instructor as several times this week I heard my wife mutter, "if I get my hands on that little " every time she held onto a piece of furniture while navigating a room.
Yet, we're actually going to give it one more shot. If we are completely debilitated for a week, we may give it up. We're not willing to die just to get healthy.
-- Connect with Chris Johnson at Facebook.com/KudzuKidWriting or on Twitter @kudzukid88.