breaking free

Freedom is that instant between when someone tells you to do something and when you decide how to respond. -Dr. Jeffrey Borenstein

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Pump It Up

After reading Alecia’s blog about the horrors of working out in the gym, I was inspired to write. A couple of years ago (although I may have been 8) my sister decided that it would be fun if we had some sister bonding time. Since I idolize my sister and think she is the greatest thing since Walker Texas Ranger, I was all for her grand plan. We decided to go to Gold’s Gym and do a work out called Body Pump. The name should have clued me in on all the pain I was going to endure, but being a work-out rookie I thought I had nothing to fear. “Don’t worry Bobbie Jo. It’s just 45 minutes and you get to listen to music the entire time.” 45 minutes of leisurely exercising at my own pace didn’t seem like such a big deal.
As the music begins, I feel pumped. The first set goes great. I feel revived and energetic like I can tackle anything that this aerobics junkie can dish out. Since I am doing so well, Alecia decides to up my weights. 1-2-3 release, 1--2--3 release 1---2---3 release. I soon come to realize that the words one, two, and three are actually evil words created by the devil himself, while the word release is a gift from God. Pretty soon I begin huffing and puffing. My sit-ups are more of lean-ups and my curls are more like bends. There is one brief moment of hope when the instructor says BREAK! As soon as I sit down to take a breather I hear an all too familiar voice saying ALL RIGHT LADIES! LET’S PUMP IT UP! I look up at my sister as a Jennifer Lopez song starts vibrating off the walls, and she cannot help but laugh at the deer-in-headlights look on my face. Every couple of minutes I ask her what time it is and how much longer I have to endure this suffering. Soon there is only five minutes left and I know that this dark chapter in my life is about to end (yes, 45 minutes can consume a whole chapter). I can see the light at the end of the tunnel when all of a sudden I hear seven little words that strikes fear in my heart. ALLRIGHT LADIES! IT’S TIME FOR SOME LUNGES! I look to Aleica for a little sympathy but she has turned away from me, trying to hide her laughter and the tears that are cascading down her face. So there I am in gray shorts, and a white t-shirt, with my ponytail pulled high, looking in the mirror wondering what I had done to deserve this. Shocks are racing up and down my legs. I can barely stand up let alone participate in the most heinous exercise position ever thought up by man. "Just a few more bars of music," I keep telling myself. "It'll all be over soon."
The music finally stops and my torture comes to an end. I heave a sigh of relief as I lay face up thanking God for not allowing me to keel over those last forty-five minutes. After this terrifying experience, it is safe to say that I have never been back to Gold’s Gym since.