I know you were all wanting an update on how this class is going. If you need to catch up to my Insanity Hell, you can go back and read my blog.

Yesterday was start of week two, session three. I got so excited when I walked in and there were a stack of paper plates. I’m thinking…”Hell to the yes. This is my kind of exercise class…WE GET SNACKS!”

Oh you tricky tricky instructor. Dirty, she was. There were no snacks. If this were Halloween and you said, “Trick or treat.” I gots the trick part of the deal. We used those darn paper plates in ways I have never used a paper plate or ever intended.

The sweet (facetiously saying) instructor said we were doing Tabata training. That meant 45 seconds of exercise with 15 seconds of rest. That 15 seconds of rest was a crock of poo. It was more like FIVE seconds of rest. She owes me a lot of rest seconds back.

There were some tough exercises I just couldn’t do. Not so much that my fat butt can’t do it; it was because my old joints just couldn’t do them. Lunges…I don’t think so. There is no reason in the world I can convince my old knees to bend that way. And staying in the push-up position just kills my wrist. I cannot switch to knuckle push-ups. Five years ago I did knuckle push-ups all the time and chipped a bone on one of my knuckles. Lucky me.

My coworker was doing great during the class. I’m over here gasping for oxygen. Still second guessing my decision to do this class.

The last exercise was called ‘Alligator Crawl’. What fun lies ahead, or so I thought. She demonstrated it. You are in a plank position on your wrists and your toes on the paper plates. You walk with your hands forward and then backwards. FOR AN ENTIRE MINUTE!!

Just call me a TRUE KENTUCKIAN! This girl pull out a “one and done”. That’s all I could get out of me. I’m looking around at everyone and wonder how the hell they are doing it. Even my coworker did two rounds…dirty dog I’m just killin’ it, or it’s killing me, more so the latter.

I woke up today with a bit soreness with my abs. YAY. I ran into the bathroom and pulled my shirt to see my six pack. Let’s just say it is more of a pony keg. Damn.

I have to go back tomorrow. I guess I’m just glutton for punishment, but then I’m not a quitter.

If I die after tomorrow, it was nice knowing you…

Peace out, trout!