Feel the burn...

I took a leap and decided to work out because let's face it, I'm not getting any damn younger.

I had a teeny shred of energy and decided to burn it on something constructive. This decision in itself was a huge sacrifice because I can't tell you when I last had enough energy to even consider burning.Energy to me is like a $100 bill. You get it and you hoard it much like a fat kid hoards Twinkies in a secretly stashed shoebox. In other words, for me to decide to work out...well, it's like the fat kid sharing that Twinkie.

A while back (probably the last time I had energy) I bought an aerobics DVD. It's endorsed by the Biggest Loser and when I made the purchase I thought to myself, "well, fatter people than me do this crap and they don't drop dead - I'll give it a whirl."


I gave it a whirl. I'm surprised I didn't drop dead.

I can't decide which is more depressing. The fact that I used to be able to move up and down various athletic courts/fields (I didn't say run quickly, I just said move) or the fact that I'm so out of shape Shamu would laugh at my ass. The whale can at least jump out of the water and flop around. This became painstakingly clear as I resembled Bugs Bunny crawling through the desert in search of an oasis. I haven't sweat like that since...well, I don't believe I have ever sweat like that-and that was during the warm-up.

I didn't quit though.

I picked up the dumbbells and kept at it as Bill (or whatever his name is) promised to "change my life." He also said that I should be able to "feel the burn." I felt it alright, I felt it singeing and scorching muscles I didn't even know I had - and I hadn't even gotten through the first ten minutes.

As the sweat ran into my eyes and the day's mascara ran down my cheeks I realized what a wuss I have become. I used to out-lift boys in strength and conditioning class! I placed third in a state powerlifting team competition - by myself! What had become of my ability to get through a circuit workout?

I'll tell you what become of it - beer, age and working 50 hours a week. 

"Think skinny, think skinny - skinny people don't quit," I kept telling myself. And then I had a reality slap. I'm never going to be "skinny." I'll be lucky to be trim, but you can't get trim by sitting in a chair hammering away on a keyboard, right? Right. Well, unless the keys have resistance and in that case I won't have trim phalanges, I'd get sausage fingers which are worse than a gut - especially on a chick, but I digress.

I'm going to keep going. I may be burning now, but hopefully I'm burning away something.I just hope it's not my will to live because I guarantee tomorrow I will definitely feel the burn.