I was sitting at my desk earlier today, innocently minding my own business when I had a thought.
I think I'll go to Turbo Kick tonight.
WHAT?!?! But it's Thursday! I just went YESTERDAY! I don't have to go again until Saturday!
But I want to.
Seriously? What is my problem?
So I called up the Hubster. "Hey. I want to go to Turbo Kick tonight."
"Okay." (He's so easy, I love him.)
And so we went. We got there early and made it seven laps around the track...A few minutes before class started, we congregated at the door with a bunch of fellow Turbo Kickers. Turbo Jennie was there, too, and gave us a confused look. "Didn't you say, 'see you Saturday?'"
"Yeah. I did...but I'm a psycho." I figured that about summed it up.
About 20 minutes in, she asked me if I regretted my decision. I shook my head, unable to speak, my face already flaming red. "Oh, yes, you do," she said, "I can tell."
I laughed, as much as I could, anyway. She was right. I was tired and puffing and ready to fall over. But I stayed. And I made it. Until the ab track--excuse me, the EXTENDED ab track. My gut was already killing me from yesterday's extended track, so every crunch was like a knife in my midsection. It hurts when I sneeze. When I laugh. When I move. Ugh. (I just sneezed. Ow.)
And after Turbo, I finished my three laps around the track for a mile. Pretty darn good workout.
Turbo three times in one week. (Yes, I'm already counting Saturday. I get to.) I want to be down 30 pounds by the end of March. It's less than 2 pounds a week away...I know I can do it. I also know I need to step up the exercise.
To be healthy.
To be stronger.
To be happy.
Let's move it!