The Zombie Workout

After that last post where I said I would FINALLY get my lazy butt in gear...I actually did! And let me tell ya, it has not been easy. Day 1 was more an exercise in getting out of bed with enough time to do anything extra in the morning, so I started with yoga. Subsequent days I actually ran (short, slow, pathetic runs, but hey, at least it was a start). But where it has gotten interesting is this week I am spending in Albuquerque. I've had my butt seriously kicked.


In an effort to escape the rather depressing hotel workout room, I contacted my fabulous friend Cristin and asked her to help me "get fit". I explained that I have a PR film thing happening for the winery in a week and need to 'tighten' ASAP. She gingerly offered to take me to her CrossFit gym. Being a CrossFit novice, I had no idea what I was agreeing to.


Arriving at the gym I immediately realized I was in over my head. This place was like an airplane hanger filled with steel bars and piles of weights. No treadmills or stationary bikes in sight. No steam rooms or pools to lay by either. The people working out here were other worldly too. Buff isn't even a quality word to use, these guys made Channing Tatum look bad. My stress levels spiked immediately as I realized my sofa body was about to be seriously brutalized. My dear friend promised I'd be fine...but as I looked her perfect, fit, lean body over, I could see she was one of them. If Barbie was a real person, she would be Cristin. And obviously Barbie was lying.


The class du jour was a hideous combination of jump rope and deep walking lunges. As it turns out I don't know how to jump rope, a realization I had to have publicly as the Navy Seal instructor asked me to demonstrate my inability in front of the group. Not only did I flail my arms and trip over the rope, I also managed to pull my shoulder out. A spastic moment later, I was bent over heaving trying to catch my breath, this seriously sucked and had only just started.


100 double-unders (turns out that means jumping rope like they do in those boxing movies...you know really fast and looking somewhat like a circus sideshow) or 200 singles with the jump rope would be followed by 60 lunges with a weight carried over your head. Then you would go back to jump rope then more lunges...over and over and over and over. I could see why all the military/ actors in the class looked the way they did. I managed to trip over my rope enough times to pretend I'd done a set and start my lunges, without a weight cause it was my 1st class, see how nice these people are? After 10 the burn in my legs was fierce, but the little mass of muscle that was the second instructor for the class demanded the lunge be deeper, her tiny body appearing beside me created a fear I can't quite explain. By the time I finished 60 of these horrific movements, I was completely done for, I couldn't breath and had so much sweat pouring from my body that I literally needed to be wrung out. They don't let you stop though! I see why they make sure you sign a waiver. Set 2 of jump rope was a no go. I could not will my legs to bounce the 1/2 inch off the ground to get the rope under my feet. The strain in my shoulder from flailing earlier seared in pain and I decided jumping jacks were a better option. 40 more lunges and I wanted to cry, really bad, not pretend cry, cry cry. Back to the jump rope...I mean bouncing, because now I couldn't even do the jumping jacks...I was reduced to bouncing on my toes for the amount of time Barbie jumped rope. As we headed into more lunges, my body felt like a "The Walking Dead" zombie as it pushes through a broken door after its prey, forcing its body to move forward as its skin and muscle peel off its bones against the jagged wood. The fire and pain in my legs were at demonic level.


Finally, after what felt like 4 hours of intense torture, we finished. I collapsed to the floor. The instructors asked that we circle around to stretch and as I attempted to collect my shaking body into an upright position, my legs couldn't withstand the pressure and buckled under me tossing me to the floor in a pile of smelly pathetic goo. This was seriously embarrassing.


Rolling over in bed hurt. Everything from my hip to my ankle hurt. I cursed CrossFit. And...I went back.


What the hell was I thinking? Well, I did ask Cristin to kick my butt and she said the workout would be different...and my sore as hell body needed to move in order to recover. So to everyone's surprise, I appeared back in the torture chamber and let the Navy Seal beat the crap out of me some more.


Day 2 was burpees, which evidently if done properly require jumping from each position to the next, their sick add on was then jumping onto a HUGE box and doing burpees on the other side...about 5 million times. THEN doing some sort of squat swing thing with a heavy weight. Of course part of the cruelty of CrossFit is that you go back and forth between the 2 exercises until you combust. Obviously I couldn't do the whole jumping onto a box thing. I mean that is just a joke. Who even does that between burpees? I'll tell you who... gorgeous, tall, brilliant, incredible women with long blonde hair...yep, there is a reason why Cristin looks like Barbie, she is a total badass.


Due to the already decimated state of my lower body, a lot of my burpees were actually me laying on the mat...praying. At what I thought was the end of the disgustingly long class, we did 8 billion sit ups.


The next morning I awoke to a pain I didn't even feel after my 1st Full Marathon. I hurt from the base of my skull to the tips of my toes. Yes even my toes hurt...mostly because during a burpee I managed to jump into the plank position and slam my toes into the ground. Evidently I burpee with the same skill I jump rope. Getting out of bed was similar to right after my c-section delivering my son, absolute agony. I headed to the treadmill in the hotel, desperate to loosen the muscles seizing up in my legs. I clung to the rails of the machine and lumbered along. I stretched in the hot tub too. Nothing would make the searing pain relent. I wobbled like C3PO from "Star Wars" from errand to errand, while deep zombie like groans escaped me when I had to ascend stairs. By evening I was literally screaming any time I bent my legs. I needed wine.


This morning, the magic of a bottle of wine had me crawling slowly about the hotel room with less zombie horror and I saw that my reflection in the mirror was already a 'tighter' me! Hey now, maybe this isn't so bad.


I have my stinky workout clothes on, a date set with Cristin and am terrified, but headed one more time this week to CrossFit. Pray for me people, this is going to be bad.


-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com