Fit Bod

A conversation between friends.......

“That’s not a New Year Resolution, that’s a death wish,” Pam said to me.

"Why is it a death wish? I need to lose a few LBS and what better way to begin the process than by a trying Cross Fit?"

"Do you know what you’ll be expected to do?"

"The usual: warm up, strength train, and stuff.  How hard can that be?  The secret is discipline."
 
"Wait a minute. Your idea of discipline is no whipped cream on your hot chocolate.  Tell your overambitious self to walk away slowly."
 
"Pam, I’ve researched what’s required and the workouts are scalable.  Anyone can join in despite their fitness level.  And you never do the same exercise twice. Talk about approachable!"
 
Pam rolled her eyes and realized her friend Becky had really lost it if she thought this was a good idea. 
 
"Becky, this will be high intensity no matter how you scale it.  Misery is misery whether you’re lifting a 40lb dog food bag or attempting Olympic weightlifting, powerlifting or high intensity cardio.
 I’ll be here for you when you call me weeping after your first day, barely able to press the buttons on the phone, let alone tie your shoes."
 
"Jeez Pam, have some faith in me!"
 
Pam gave Becky a sympathetic look and patted her arm, (which after this, Becky would not be able to have her touch.)
 
The next week Becky showed up at the gym.  Tom the trainer, a sculpted specimen who no doubt moonlighted as a model for romance novel covers was there.  Appropriately looking nonchalant, but feeling the heat rise in her face, Becky thought to herself, this makes it all worthwhile! 
That was the last time Becky had any coherent thought at all.  After two hours, her grunting, moaning and once, a suppressed scream that sounded like a kitten mewing, was upsetting the rest of the clients. Tom asked Becky if she felt she could do one last exercise. 

You’ve got to be kidding! she thought. 

She could barely lift her butt off the matt after falling from the last low platform she should have easily jumped onto, but missed, falling unceremoniously onto her backside and... could she admit it?... causing her to expel gas at an alarming volume.
 
Crawling on her hands and knees she reached for the platform to hoist herself up to a standing position.  She would walk out of here with her head held high, though the act of walking caused her to mimic Edvard Munch’s “Silent Scream”...and she did.