Torture on a Treadmill

Today was the last day of a 5 week Sculpt class that I have been taking at the YMCA. Every Tuesday and Thursday morning for more than a month, I have dragged myself out of bed and to the gym, only to be physically and mentally pushed by my 2 trainers, Maggie and Dina. Alongside a handful of other women, the "torture duo" as I will call them now, lead us through an hour long, high intensity workout that cycled through various weight training and plyometric exercises, with bursts of cardio in between. Let me give you an example: we'll do a minute of scorpion push ups (one leg in the air), followed by sumo squats in combination with bicep curls, then squat thrusts. The goal is to use our own body weight as much as possible during strength exercises, and to not allow for much of a recovery so your heart rate stays up.

It hurts. A lot. Anyone that knows me can attest to the fact that I am in pretty good shape. I am a runner, and since joining the Y, I am there doing some sort of exercise 4-6 days a week. But for crying out loud, lunges and 5 minute long planks are NOTHING compared to an hour long run in my neighborhood. This month I have been forced to use muscles I didn't even know I had. Did you know there's a muscle surrounding your pelvic bone? I sure as hell didn't until the "torture duo" entered my life. I'm still not sure how a strong pelvis will help me in a fight, but it feels cool to punch myself there and not feel my fist padded by inches of soft, cushiony skin.

As it was the last day for my sculpting group, our trainers moved us extra quickly through each exercise, and pushed us even farther when they saw our bodies shaking. Since the start of this class, I have gradually come to like this physical pain. It's worth it.. after anyways. During the pain, I just want to fall to my knees and cry like a toddler. So when the "torture duo" said "ok ladies, that's it for the day," I found myself asking for more. My "already?" comment was followed by moans and groans from the others in my class. Unlike me, they had taken these sculpt sessions before. So they knew my wish for more pain would indefinitely be granted.

And yes oh yes, it was. They lead us over to the treadmills and told us to run with it off. I thought to myself, "ummm... ok?" and began to jog in place. Easy. Then I was schooled and told to make the belt move without turning the machine on. Hard. Much MUCH more harder. Even worse when you are forced to do it for almost 2 minutes straight, the "torture duo" standing behind you, yelling your name and "FASTER!"

Owie. I challenge any of you out there to attempt this exercise. Please get back to me and tell me what you think. But make sure you're "making that belt move!"

While enduring this and all the other grueling exercises I have put myself through these last 5 weeks, to my left, and to my right, I was always surrounded by a group of women, all of them - mothers. Out of the entire bunch, I was the only one without kids. One has a 2 year old girl, another has 4 children all in school. Going to sculpt class is just one of the many difficult things they do throughout their days. Before they've even thought about getting ready for the gym, they've already made breakfast, packed lunches, cleaned the house, started laundry, and brought their kids to school or daycare. All I did this morning before 10:30 was roll out of bed, make my egg whites and oatmeal, and drive to the YMCA 10 minutes before class started. My life is so simple compared to theirs.

The mothers in my class, along with the "torture duo" that also belongs in that group, have inspired me today. I almost want to go back and slap myself every time that I bitched about how "hard my life is." The reality is, taking care of little ole me is nothing in comparison to providing for an entire family. And further, to have the motivation to do something for yourself, to get to the gym and test your physical limits, is even more admirable. As I whine through shoulder raises and mountain climbers, these women buckle down and do it like all the rest of the things they are responsible for in a day. I feel humbled to have met them, and fortunate to have been there to hear about their lives while we sweat, tremble, grunt, and collapse alongside each other.

Working out is hard work, as I'm sure you are all well aware of. But next time you are feeling unmotivated to get your heart going, I hope you think of the mothers at my gym that do it every day in between diaper changes and feedings. They are the strongest women I have met to date.