empresspatti (empresspatti) wrote,
empresspatti
empresspatti

Bleachers Club

It was pouring down rain Thursday when I woke up.  My first conscious thought was thank gwhd I don’t have to do the bleachers.

 

Recap:  I have to lower my cholesterol and blood sugar levels and I want to continue fitting into the small jeans in my closet.  Therefore I go to the gym and lift weights.

 

I have a fair number of workout buddies. One of my favs is a Mom of three who teaches step aerobics and works part time for IBM.  She’s smart, funny and challenging to keep up with.  A few weeks ago, after step class, she says to me, “want to try the Bleachers Club on Thursday?” 

 

Ah, vanity.     

 

The first thing we did was trot around the track for a couple of laps.  Fine.  Next was “Indian Sprints.”  Much to my chagrin, this consisted of running in a single file line with the person in the back sprinting to the front of the line.  By my fourth sprint, I was sounding like a geezer.

 

Once my death was imminent, it was time for the bleachers.  We ran up and down the tall cement bleachers.  We topped off this fun activity by running up and down the steps in S pattern through the entire stadium.  10 flights up and 10 back down.  Gah!

 

During this fun, everyone was chattering and laughing. I was not capable of speech, being afraid I would embarrass myself by dropping dead. 

 

Imagine my happiness when I realized that this was just the first part of the activity. 

 

Next thing I know we are running sprints uphill and walking backward down hill.  It was a relief when everyone started walking backwards up the hill, but believe me, that was harder than running sprints.  I kid you not:  my ass was on fire for the next two days.  Talk about your deep tissue workout…

 

By the time the hour was up, I was a noodle.  I have never been so glad to stop and stretch in my life. As these women were chattering, I realized I was the oldest in the class by at least 15 years.  What had I gotten in to?  My buddy bounced over to me and said, “Do we have a date for next week?”  Pathetic pride made me go back.  Second time around wasn’t any easier.  I puffed along asking myself the eternal question - are smaller pants really worth it?

 

I have never been so glad to hear rain, as I was this past Thursday. 
Tags: bleachers club
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