Otherwise known as... The Day I Found Out What Happens When Campers Don't Get Enough Sleep...
In my last post, Practice Makes Perfect, I wrote about how I went to a salsa social yesterday evening, danced my socks off, and got schooled in the art of following. (Still working on that...) It took me a long time to write the post; Chuck has company in town, visitors from Ohio, and it was hard for me to focus on writing while simultaneously making conversation. I cannot yet dance and talk, unless I am doing basic step... and I cannot write and talk either.
Unless I'm talking to myself, that is. I usually repeat everything I write out loud as I type it, or perhaps just before.
I went to bed at 11:00 last night; much later than I normally do on a school night. I also woke up-- wide awake-- at three o'clock in the morning. I was awake until half past four, at which time I knew I only had an hour before having to get up and go to work. All too soon, the alarm rang.
I promptly shut it off, reset it, and fell back asleep for one lovely half hour.
When the alarm roused me a second time, I got up, showered, made a most necessary pot of coffee, and went through my morning routine. I cut a few corners, and didn't get to sit and savor my two cups of coffee as long as I have during the past few weeks, but hey, the extra sleep was worth it.
This afternoon I had my fifth session of boot camp, and our intrepid instructor Chad had all kinds of fun in store for us today.
Today was the first day my body wouldn't quite allow itself to be pushed as it has been the previous four sessions, but given my lack of quality sleep, I was impressed with myself simply for showing up. Today we did forty-five second sets of various exercises, from arms, to legs, to abs, compounded by 45 seconds in between of active rest. I know that active rest is an effective way to make the most of a workout, but today, it was particularly difficult. Sit-ups (not so bad), thigh-knee-toe reaches (also not so bad), and scissor kicks (very, very bad indeed) are a sampling of the active rest Chad offered us My School District Boot Campers.
At one point, we were working on our triceps by doing a a funky one-armed push up while laying (lying? I can never remember!) on our sides. Chad, I'm not sure if I'm doing it right.
My workout buddy, Mrs. Glassrooster, positively shrieked, Don't CALL HIM OVER!!!
Chad did in fact walk over, and told me I was performing the exercise correctly. Glassrooster, just so you know, that is totally going in the blog.
We made it through the workout. Even though I admit that at one point, I was completely doing one of the exercises wrong, a funky platform where we partnered while holding onto a rag, for the purpose of having a tug of war of sorts with the rag between us. Chad came over... Jen, what are you doing? Get that elbow off the ground!
I CAN'T!!! It was my turn to shriek.
He walked away. I failed that particular set. But I was still okay, because at least I showed up.
While we were cooling down with lovely stretching of all the major muscle groups, one of the ladies nearby breathed, This is my favorite part of the workout.
Several girls echoed, Yeah.
I took it upon myself at that moment to reveal the following: My favorite part is the shower. It's true... it is. I love that feeling of taking a cold shower and getting clean after a good, hot, sweaty workout when I've pushed myself to the limit.
Yeah, that's good too, several comrades in camp agreed.
This evening I came home and accomplished the following tasks and treats:
1. I took my lovely cold shower.
2. I got into my yoga pants and t-shirt, my post-workout clothing of choice.
3. I devoured a lovely piece of cold salmon accompanied by a glass of chardonnay for dinner.
4. I started writing this evening's post for Single.
A perfect end to what has honestly been a most arduous day after a night of improper sleep. I am now listening to one of my favorite songs of the moment by Tedeschi Trucks Band. It's called Learn How to Love. It's great-- bluesy, rocky, with awesome lyrics, sung with incredible feeling.
I might have found out what it's like to attend boot camp with too little sleep, but I attended, and I survived. In my book, and maybe even Chad's, that's what counts.
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