When we lived first moved to Nashville I RARELY took time to exercise. For a few of reasons. 1) I am fantastic at excuses 2)We were for the most part broke and I HATED the thought of doing anything outside, so I had no access to a gym. 3) I worked a lot, barely saw my kid, and saw my husband less than that.
I tried the jog stroller maybe once but again I had to be outside on a road where I have been guilty numerous times of harshly judging women who -run funny- wear the wrong clothes- jiggle too much fat -submit their children to sitting down WAY too long so THEY can jiggle said fat in public (Oh come on you do it too!). Anyway I was not a fan of allowing strangers to silently judge me (Yes, I am aware I have issues but if you don't know that about me you clearly have never spoken to me or stood within earshot of an conversation I have had.) I digress....
With time things changed. We had a very small balance in our checking account, I had a fabulous job with a boss who is now one of my dearest friend, Wes survived his intern year and had a few more hours at home, Peyt went to work with me and now had a new "little sister". We decided that a gym membership was next on the priority list.
After a few weeks of elliptical torture I was seeing no results (i.e. I was still eating like nobody's business) so I decided that I needed a huge kick in the rear and joined a "boot camp". I had no clue what I was getting myself into. I should have known there was something clearly different about this instructor because of her personal blurb on the gym's bulletin board. It was written in TEXT SPEAK. The entire thing. What? Anyway, I had seen several women who looked to be in worse shape than me running around outside jumping off and over and under whatever the day's "camp activities" were. Surely, it couldn't be horrible? *Insert dramatic pause*
So I show up for day one and in walks "
Jillian" (she's the super fit Nazi trainer on the Biggest Loser) on CRACK!! Her name was CHUKI, just CHUKI, no last name. And no, I am not capitalizing for dramatic effect, that was how she spelled her name. She loved to quote Yoda by saying "Do or Do not, there is no try" in the worst British accent known to man. She donned the same sports bra and camo pants combo as Jillian, that showcases that same unnatural "6 pack" abs that every woman knows she will never have unless she quits her job, neglects her family, starves herself, and moves a sleeping cot into the gym. To top it all off CHUKI had spent so much time in the tanning bed that it was hard to guess her age. I am guessing late 40's but who knows, could be 30's, could be 60's..... Oh and I forgot about the 20 something streaks of dark purple in her hair. No, I am not exaggerating her appearance, I couldn't come up with this if I tried!!
Moving along.... We started with a one mile timed run. Great. I always sucked at this in high school as I was a super slow runner who most always came in last. But as in turned out my time was better than high school and I came in 3rd. I was feeling good, thinking this would be cake. We then proceeded to do "drills". We used jump ropes, medicine balls, huge rubber bands, soccer balls, stairs, walls, each other, and any other device that she could come up with to torture us. I did okay...it was hard but at least I finished. Then we had one last thing to do before we could leave.
Push-ups. Now I do not enjoy push-ups but hey, we women can always do them on our knees, right? Wrong. Not only did we have to do them on our toes, we had to go down low enough for our chest to touch her fist on the ground! If you didn't touch her fist, it didn't count. Did I mention that you had to do this individually while everyone stood over you counting and cheering you on? Oh and then she proceeded to put your "number" on the board for all to see. I should have bolted. I decided to go second so I could get it over with. I figured it would be bad but I had no idea it would be HUMILIATING! First off CHUKI thought it would be cute to nickname me "Stubby". Not funny. In the least. Secondly, I did not do one that counted. Not one. All the others said "Hey, I'm sure I can't do any either". They were ALL wrong. Every other woman there did at least 3....some did as many as 12! Are you freaking kidding me? I went home deflated but also determined. I would, I had to learn how to do a real push up. Or so I thought. The next 3 weeks were not any better. I NEVER had a single push up recorded on the board, I did however pull something in my back that made getting out of bed a nightmare. I stopped a week early and didn't go back.
Fast forward 2 years to the present. There has not been a day that has gone by that I do not think about my inadequate upper body strength. I foolishly have challenged everyone I know to do a CHUKI push-up, trying desperately to find someone, anyone who is also in the "I suck at push-ups" club. I haven't found many. Even Peyton asks me to put my fist down to see if she can do more than 15! That little turd! A few months ago Wes and I started doing Body Pump. It's this group exercise class that combines weightlifting to music. He goes at the crack of dawn with a friend from the neighborhood and I go with my friends after Peyt gets on the bus. One night I asked Wes to lend me his fist. He rolled his eyes and sympathetically said, "It has been months since you tried this". I know, I know...just humor me? So he did, and I did 2! Now all I need is to move back to Nashville long enough to sign up for that class and erase that big fat zero that sits next to "Stubby".
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