Hows that now

Have you ever been totally drunk and then tried to blog?  That is how that last post was, only instead if drunk I was totally delusional from my training.  Here is what happened. 

A few weeks back I told my trainer that I didn’t think half hour appointments were enough, that I was good enough for hours now.  He told me to buy a pack of hour appointments but we would start out with a couple half hours and then move to an hour, and if I couldn’t hang we would go back to half hours.  I’m pretty sure my exact words were,

"Shit Ryan I got this!"

Then because I wasn’t being moronic enough I said something along the lines of, "This time Ryan I want you to make it hurt okay, none of this sissy shit."

Ha hahahahahah silly stupid little girl.

So as you know, I’m doing the Climb the Legacy at the end of the month (have you donated yet) so before my work outs I’ve been trying to do 36 flights on the stairmaster as training.  However, on Monday Rob had to go tell me that the stairmasters flights were different so I needed to do 40 flights on there to equal the Legacy’s 36 (asshole).  I got to the gym about 15 minutes early today and I thought, "Shannon you are totally fucking awesome and you are a rock star so you should totally do your 40 flights on the Stairmaster before you  meet with Ryan.  Then Ryan will be all, "wow Shannon you are such a great trainee and since you were so awesome and ahead of the game I’ll go easy on you today" and then I’ll be the world most bad ass trainee ever hell yeah Shannon you are awesome."

Here is what really happened.

I do my 40 flights and saunter over to Ryan with some serious "I’m the shit" Swagger in my step and say, "yeah did you just see me bang out those 40 flights, pretty fucking awesome huh?"  To which my trainer said, "idiot, remember last week when you told me to make it hard, well after that I designed a program to kick your ass, and you just made it a hundred times worse on yourself dumbass."

Um.  No, that wasn’t the correct response Ryan.  Remember it was supposed to be something about how fantastic I am?

Next thing I know he’s all, "okay so get in push up position with these weights in your hand, do a push up then lift the weight in your left arm, then your right arm, then jump your legs up to your hands, then stand up and climb up that giant steppy thingy, do a curl step down, step up with the other leg, curl and repeat it all."

My jaw is still on the floor, I think I left it there.  I do his stupid little thing and it’s easy.  I was just laughing, if this was him working me hard I might as well have been filing my nails. 



"Okay now get over here lay on your back put the ball under your shins roll it back towards your ass, get your ass off the floor Shannon, okay do it twenty times and then I want you to freeze, hold your ass as far in the air as you can for a 10 count and then do ten more roll in thingies and then you can rest. "

And then I started to cry.  This shit hurts.  FUCK ME. 

"Okay now I want you to get on your side, make sure your hip is off the ground grab that weight and rotate under, over, under, over.  Twenty times GO."


"Now switch to the other side."

Switch, what, wait, really this wasn’t bad enough. Did I shit on Gods front lawn today or something?

"Okay get back on your back, grab that Swiss ball and put it in your hands now do a crunch and lift your legs, transfer the ball to your legs, drop your legs to the ground then lift them up, crunch up and grab the ball, lather rinse repeat."

I wanted to die.  Die die die dead kill me now.  Finally I was done. and then he said, "OKAY LETS DO IT AGAIN FROM THE BEGINNING."

At that point I was pretty sure the room was spinning.  One my third round I slowed down, which is right around the time Ryan called me a cupcake.

Finally I was done.  Three sets.  Thank everything holy.




The fucker turns around and pulls out the bosu ball and tells to get in push up position, then drop down onto the left elbow, onto the right, and back up. This was the HARDEST exercise I have ever done EVER in my life.  Two dips in and I realized I was about to puke.  PUKE.  Who pukes at the gym?  The people on the Biggest Loser that is who, not stupid little girls at the gym.  This would be the exact time he called me "Sally" and a "sissy."

He wasn’t done.  He made me do another arm exercise and then back extensions and then repeat it. 

This is the point when I realized I had actually just thrown up a little in my mouth and that I was seriously at the gym swallowing down vomit. 


Eventually I was done.  I was a free girl.  I stumbled out of there wobbling like I was drunk, the room spinning like I had just tossed back a bottle of Jaeger.  When I got downstairs I actually had to sit down for a second (that is when I wrote the first blog) and regain composure before getting the boys.  For a moment I actually wondered if I would be able to safely drive home.  Then I thought, "fuck safety do I even have enough energy to push the gas peddle down?  

The answer? Barely.

I just got home.  I pretty much collapsed in my chair.  I have no idea how I think I will make dinner.  I have zero idea how I will parent for the remainder of the night.  In fact, if I have to pee I’m pretty much fucked because I don’t think my muscles have enough energy in them to even squat down onto the toilet, let alone heft my fat ass up off the toilet seat.  I’m contemplating asking Brandon to go get me one of my jumbo over night pads so I can just pee in that all night rather then trying to actually move.

Ryan made sure to tell me that I will be really sore tomorrow, that Friday will be worse, Saturday will be kind of okay and by Sunday I should be able to climb my stairs with out crying like my two year old.


In my next life, remind me never to ask my trainer to be hard on me again mmkay!

3 thoughts on “Hows that now

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