My body is PISSED...

I've started working out again. I mean crazy-like. I mean Personal Trainer.
Now, those of you who know me, know I'm not some un active slob. I used to be crazy fit! Remember back in the day when I worked out hardcore, had a body like Linda Hamilton from T2, was in awesome shape...oh and did I mention I was lik 19-21.
Ya. I'm 34 now. Things are different.
I've always tried to stay active, took morning walks along the Back Bay when I lived in Costa Mesa, hot yoga, kickball, biking. Well since I moved back to Orange finances and location have been against me. Its boring to walk around my neighborhood so my walks have become less. I have that gargantuin hill so biking is a bit more of a chore and finances has not allowed me to yoga it up as much as I used too. I tried doing DVD's at home but that takes motivation and will power which at the moment I somewhat lack...have I mentioned I havent quit smoking yet?
So my bestie was the one who used to be crazy fit bitch like me years back and her bro is now a personal trainer - so - we decided to do it. He's cutting us a sweet sister deal and we're going 2 or 3 times a week.
I'm thinking to myself - cool - I'll lose some weight, get back in shape, wont be too hard...I mean I'm not TOTALLY out of shape right?
WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Day 1:
He has us switch off, so when one of us is killing ourselves on one death device, the other is doing the same on another - then we switch - then we switch - then we switch. HOW MANY F-ING REPS DO WE DO??!! We dont stop, he yells the whole time "GO GO GO!" "Faster!!!!" Then he puts me on this crazy sit up contraption. I think an ailien crawled into my stomach and ripped my muscles apart. Good lord. My bestie is bright read and I'm wheezing like a dying fish.
The next day I was sore. Very sore. The 2nd day I couldnt walk. I mean literally. If I sat down for more then 2 minutes my body got pissed and I couldnt get up. WTF.
Day 2:
A few days later. "Are you sore" he asks? "Actually I think my muscles fell out of my body" I respond. "Do you notice I'm walking like I have a stick up my ass". He laughs. "We're doing upper body today"
Ok, I think. I have a really strong upper body. This wont be nearly as bad.
WRONG AGAIN.
I'm not wheezing as much, but I'm stumbling around like I'm drunk. My muscles have pretty much just said fuck off we're done. I'm now on the bicycle looking around at the people around me that I swear are laughing and thinking "Look at that sad little blonde girl who thinks she can keep up with us".
The next few days consist of not sleeping because I'm in so much pain, I cant lift my arms, I cant walk and I still AS I WRITE THIS BLOG cant stretch without my stomach screaming. I think its broken! I really do!!! Can you break a stomach????
Before my 3rd day is our 1st kickball game. Oh god.
I arrive trying to lift my arms and stretch to no avail. The team is wondering if I got in a massive fight and got my ass kicked. Sort of. I stretch ALOT, trying to loosen up for the game. When I try to catch the ball it feels like bolts of fire are shooting through my arms. I can do this. I actually kick and make it to 1st. I'm not happy about this because now I have to actually keep running. I make it home only tripping twice. Wheezing again. Seriously. What is wrong with me? I ride home with my sis in law who constantly asks if I'm ok. She's worried. She's not used to me like this. Ya me eithier. Did I mention the creature that ate my stomach muscles?
Day 3:
This is the other night. I come in angry and cursing the joint as I walk in. I climb ont the treadmill since I'm early and start in. After a good trip and looking like a drunk nimrod, I get my pace going.
Here comes the Devil. "Ready??!"
I'm starting to wonder if he's actually doing his job or just taking his revenge out on me and the bestie from childhood past.
"Push this weight across the floor"
I look down at a 45 pound weight that you usually put on a machine. That cant be too hard I think.
WRONG A FUCKING GAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He's yelling, I'm sweating trying not to puke.
Bestie is worse off then me.
OH MY DEAR GOD. I THINK I MIGHT DIE.
As I'm starting to write my will in my head, he asks me why I'm so mad.
Um duh!!!!!
He actually turns nice for a split second and says "Jami, this is hard. What your doing is hard. Most people die after 10 minutes - your making it through the whole session. I promise in a month you wont be in this much pain"
I smile. I hope he's right.
I'm now going to sign off as its hurting to hold my arms up to the keyboard to type this damn blog.
But I'm doing it. I rule.
Wish me luck people!