Anonymous Confession Wednesday: Why I'm nodding off every time I sit down.

I got an email a few weeks ago. The subject line was "Fitness Group."

You see the problem already?

Look, I'm not exactly sedentary. I hoof it 3-4 miles around the neighborhood with other women on a sporadic basis. Because of genetics, I'm stronger than your average woman, and I have done things like move a piano across the living room or bring a chest of drawers up a flight of stairs all by myself. 

But I read some more: Women and youth were invited to meet together every weekday morning at 5:30 (!!!!) for an hour to do stretching, strength training, and cardio workouts.

So in short, this involved:

1. Real exercise.
2. Real exercise at 5:30am.
3. Real exercise at 5:30am in front of other people.

Just the thought of showing up had my heart beating nervously. And cursing the Year of No Fear just a little.

So I emailed YONF. (Who's YONF you ask? She's the author of this blog, and I got tired of calling her the author of this blog, and I named her YONF. We are YONF - figured it out yet? - and Mrs. B.)

And I typed, "YONF, Does the fact that reading the attached email makes me break out a nervous sweat mean that it's a Year of No Fear item? PS - If you answer yes, you have to come with me."

She begged off on some excuse like being 6 months pregnant. Whatever.

I spent several days waffling on whether or not to give it a shot, but the day before it started, I mentioned it to a fitness-loving, early-rising friend who loved the idea and suggested we go together. It was just the boost of moral support I needed.

And so it went like this:

Day 1:
Showed up, utterly self-conscious. Tried to stay at the back of the group where nobody would see me. Forgot to care about 15 minutes into it when my lungs became the size of grapes and my peripheral vision began to darken. Hoped nobody was noticing. Secretly decided I was not coming back, even though that would look worse than never showing up in the first place. Also, had an epiphany when somebody said, "Tighten your core. The shape you use it in is the shape it will stay in." That explains why I always look like I'm pregnant!

Day 2:
Came back anyway. (Or rather, limped back. Oh, the sore muscles.) Another participant said, "Hey! You came back!" (Laid to rest any illusions I had that nobody noticed my struggling on Day 1.) Found out that the "Fitness Group" is based on another program called "BOOT CAMP."

Day 3:
Testing day for Presidential Physical Fitness. (Did you know grownups can do that too?) All I want to know is, how can a bathroom scale tell me my fat percentage based on the soles of my large, summer-worn, calloused feet? If you ask me: scale = crock. (Based on the numbers it spat at me. Because it had to be the scale's error, right?) Also could not walk normally due to SORE CALVES. Played Shoulder Bingo. Rolled "20 wide-arm pushups" three times. Could not fold my arms that night without wincing.

Day 4:
Brought my 2-year-old who woke up at 4:50am. What an excellent excuse to bring up the rear as we navigated the track. Made sure 2-year-old didn't pass me on the track.

Day 5:
SKIPPED due to a sweet, blessed, timely family reunion.

And so it has gone, for nearly 3 weeks now. (That's a LONG time in my fitness world, ok?)

Here's why I can't believe I'm still doing this:

1. I'm still bringing up the rear, with or without a toddler. And I'm pretty sure I'm not practicing good form yet in most cases.
2. DID I MENTION 5:30 AM??
3. Do the words: "20 plank-walks with a resistance band around your wrists" or "boat position" mean anything to you?
4. All the exercise is making me HUNGRY, which is potentially counter-productive.
5. At least once a day, I try to figure out a justifiable way to quit (ie. pregnancy, injury, surgery, typhoid fever . . . )

And here's why I'm getting up at 5:00 tomorrow morning:

1. I'm getting every muscle in my body worked, without having to figure out how to do it myself.
2. It's free. (Thank you , thank you, thank you!)
3. I really like how our fearless leader runs the program. We are encouraged and challenged, but not pressured or embarrassed.
4. Almost everyone who finds out I'm doing the program gives me a look of surprise, and then says, "Wow! I'm proud of you!" (Also laying to rest any illusions I had that my unfit state that gone unnoticed thus far. But the moral support is wonderful.)
5. When I fell off a toybox-that-makes-a-dangerous-stepstool the other day, and considerable pain shot through my ankle, my immediate, unfiltered reaction wasn't "Yippee! An injury!" It was instant worry that I wouldn't be able to work out anymore. I took that as a good sign. (Ankle is fine, thanks for asking.)

So, since it's Anonymous Confession Wednesday, I ask you:

What are you proud of?