I’ve been trying to type this post for the last several minutes but with little success. My shoulders and arms are in severe agony and pain. Excruciating, down-right, kick ass pain! My legs are in no better condition – with muscle spasms every time I reach for my water bottle. Hydrate – they say?!
This is the day I actually wrote the post. I needed 4 days of recovery from DOMS (delayed onset of muscle soreness).
Reason : Another hardcore (self-afflicted) class at my local gym – after a long hiatus.
On the gym schedule this class was highlighted in ‘red’ which essentially means – hopefully you will be able to walk (or crawl) out of the class alive and breathing. When you see a red class, you also inevitably remind yourself of the waiver you signed – giving up your rights to everything after class. The class was called ‘Rip ‘n’ Lift’. I think they purposely come up with these ingenious names that intrigue you to a point where you think if I do one of these classes – I’m definitely looking ripped.
(Reality check : not happening).
It is however, an extremely well choreographed group class which incorporates the use of the barbell along with some free weights and some highly motivating music tracks – pretty similar to Bodypump!
Most people either love spinning or absolutely hate it. There is often no in between. I fall in the former category. I love it!
I started taking spinning classes about 4 years ago when a friend, I had recently met, introduced me to them at our local gym. She didn’t show much enthusiasm (almost intentionally) when she told me that she spins 3 days a week and I felt like she down-played the class. Did she not want me to join in with her? Was it her domain? Her only comment was – ‘It’s not for everybody’. That had me intrigued. Surely I could do a 45 minute spinning class. It was just like riding a bike – indoors. She had no idea about my stamina and I often prided myself in my ability to do high-intensity classes. With that thought I stepped into my first spin class.
About a year ago I made the switch from a Nike Fuelband to the much hyped fitness tracker called the Fitbit charge.The Fitbit as you may already know tracks your steps, floors climbed, calories burned and sleep – just to name a few. I made this life altering change when my son decided he needed an upgrade and bought himself a Garmin. Yaay!
My FitBit Charge
Little did I know that this hand-me down Fitbit would transform my life. Not necessarily in a good way – but that is still up for debate. My days quickly moved from peaceful to panic and frenzied when I developed a constant habit to tap my band and check my steps. I’m walking from the car park to the school gate, I bet I can get 300 steps. Or wait, maybe 350 if I pump my arms. I nervously tap my band, and what … I just have a 100! Mental note to self – park the car even further next time!
The first few days went by and I would eye people who would also be supporting the Fitbit on their wrists. I started seeing them everywhere – coffee shops, super markets, even doctors offices.I instantly wanted to ‘friend’ them and I gave them a smile that would mean we are in some sort of ‘Fitbit cult’. Apparently randomly smiling to strangers isn’t all that its made out to be.