February 16: Why does THAT hurt?

        Are you familiar with the feeling of soreness a day or two after a new workout?  About a year ago I would say of my stiff quads, "Oh, that's from running."  During the past six or so months, though, I've had the pleasure of not knowing why my hams/abs/quads/forearms/delts/lats/glutes hurt.

        I've been proud of myself, playing a mental game I like to call "Why does THAT hurt?"  I'm not talking about injury; I'm talking about shaking off the rust from long-neglected muscles and tendons.  The fact that I've been doing such a variety of activity that I can't figure out what worked which muscle makes me at least eight kinds of happy.

        Thanks to fellow Lighten Up-per Barb Henderson, I decided to give spin class another try this morning.  I had tried it once last year, but just didn't get it.  I had been busy trying to follow directions and didn't have time to work up a sweat, too. 

        It was different today.  About ten (okay, five) minutes into the workout, I was channeling Barb: "Oh. My. Gosh."  Add to that my own, "How long IS this class?"  If I had an invisibility cloak, I'd have made my escape.  With no such cloak in sight (heh, heh), pride made me stay put.

        Mercifully my bike seat broke (Oakland said it wasn't me, thank goodness!), so I got a short break while switching to a new bike.  Once I was all strapped in and ready to go, I was ready to go.  Stand up.  Sit down.  Push-ups.  Watch out for the branches!  There's a dog chasing us!  Who'd have thought there could be so much danger in one little room?

        45 minutes.  That's how long the class was.  Like all the instructors I've had in various activities, Oakland was great: the right mix of encouragement, humor, and belief.  My fellow bikers made the class easier, too.  Their hard work inspired me to keep going.

        Anyone who's had the pleasure of working out with me knows that I regularly complain that though I sweat through my clothes, I don't drip sweat from my head.  I never get that badge of honor: hair matted to my head.  Nope, I get a bright red face and damp forehead, and my t-shirt and sweats feel like they've been soaked in ice water, but my head could never be mistaken for a leaky faucet.

        I'm happy to say that when I was done today, there was sweat on the floor under my bike!  It came from the biker next to me.  But still….  J

~Karin