Random adventures through my life... in all their glory and splendor.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Did you say Dork-Boxing or Kick-Borking?

Sorry JC, next time stay out of roundhouse range.

So I put my body through another exercise in pain yesterday. Actually, I blame Chris. She caught me at a weak moment and decided to exploit the opportunity. We were at the gym last night and I had been going pretty strong on the treadmill for 20 minutes when she taps me on the shoulder. "Your presence is requested in the other room," she says. Now, mind you, we're at the gym. There's only one other room and that's the aerobic studio. So I'm thinking that like the CD player is on the top shelf and she can't reach it or something, but she's smiling at me so I know something ain't right. I walk in there looking for the big hairy cockroach that needs crushing or whatever and the door slams behind me. At this point I realize I have just been abducted and metaphorically thrown in the trunk of Chris's Jazzersize class. Ok, ok, I think she said it was "Cardio Kickboxing" but what I heard was "Pain in Spandex, twelve o'clock!" Keep in mind that I've already run close to 2 miles, which I made abundantly clear to the instructor.

"Good" she says, "Then you're warmed up."


Dude, I was thinking more cool down at that point... Anyway, you know all those things people say about aerobics instructors? About how they're masochistic little women who need the sweat of others to survive? Yeah, well they're all true. Sure they look all nice and smiley, but that's just to lure you into the room. My sister used to be an aerobics instructor and boy howdy, she can be pure evil. She actually advanced to Yoga instruction, which is like aerobics but you have to convince people to strain themselves slowly instead of working them into a frenzy. It's far more sinister, but I digress...

I was expecting to be humiliated by my, shall we say, "limited range of motion." I even figured weird things were going to hurt the next day. But I was not expecting to have to learn a new language. Sure, it kinda starts out sounding like English, but then words are more barked than spoken and they don't really make sense to anyone with an education anyway. Most of the class was a blur (literally from the sweat in my eyes) but I remember it going something like this:

"Ok, we're going to stretch our arms now so raise your hands over your head, palms facing up, and reach toward the ceiling."

I'm thinking to myself, "Alright, I can handle this..."

"Now roll your shoulders forward keeping your back straight. You should feel it in your lats and delts. Keep your core tight."

Wait, what? Something hurts, is that my lat? How did I lose my Court-ite, already???

(Music starts: Booka-booka-booka-booka...)

"Ok right tiger paw left, front knee down, and PUNCH and up, and PUNCH and up... Watch your face! Punch like you mean it! Your knee doesn't touch! Don't hyperextend! Guard up! I said PUNCH LIKE YOU MEAN IT!"

Whoa whoa whoa... Lady, you lost me at 'tiger paw.'

"And 8 more... HUH... 6 more... HUH-HUH-and 4... 3,... HUH, 2... 1 and AGAIN!"

Ummm, is 'huh' supposed to be a number because you're kinda using it like it's a number, but either way, your counting isn't consistent. I'm just saying that it's hard to follow someone counting backwards in some non-uniform numbering system...

"Time for front kicks. Alright, aim for groin height but if you can't get there, aim for the knee. And 8! ..."

Groin height? At this point, I'm barely reaching ankle height, lady. How about a viscious foot stomp? I could probably manage a couple of those.

"Ok, now lie face down. Center yourself, and bring your belly to your backbone."


Well, since I'm writing this, you can tell I survived. I did what any man would do when faced with an impossible situation, I flailed around like a squirrel on acid for about an hour then dropped to my knees begging for mercy. You know.

Chris looked over at me and said, "Wait till you find out what hurts tomorrow. You've been using muscles you never even knew you had." At that point I tried giving her the finger but since I couldn't feel anything past my elbow, I'm really not sure if I was successful or not.

On a completely different note, for those of you that need a little more VanDammage, have some Wallpaper from some guy with wa-haaay too much time on his hands.


Yarnsmith said...

Yeah! Like you could kick Jean-Claude in the face!

Steve said...

OH---JC stands for Jean-Claude. I was trying to figure out why you would kick Jesus in the face and when he got so buff...