For the past two days my body has been in shock. I thought I might starve as my arms are too weak to raise food to my mouth. Driving is a painful experience. C took to calling me 'old girl'. "Having trouble sitting down old girl?". I have groaned, I have winced and I have not bent in any direction.
I think it was easier. I don't feel like vomiting. Did I not try as hard, or have I actually increased my fitness after one class? Impossible. I must be cheating. My head is still doing a good impersonation of a beetroot though and my t-shirt is damp.
I spent more of this class observing than cursing. There are quite a mix in the group, young, old, fit, unfit, saggy, tight, short shorts and tank tops. One gentleman felt obliged to motivate the group as we finished the class with more sit ups and toe-touches by advising us that "Pain is living", "Pain is the gateway to life". Whatever dude. Masochist. Pain sucks.
I am now reluctant to remove my shoes as I fear I could fumigate the house. I can picture our neighbours finding us in two days time, asphyxiated on the floor. Cause of death. Gym shoes.
Four days recovery. Hurrah. Do I want a training plan for the weekend? I do not. I want wine and cheese thank you very much.