Robot Legs

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Well, we braved the crowds yesterday to go to one of the only spots in Colorado still putting on fireworks--Loveland.  While I hate the town (I grew up there), the firework display is right over the lake and it is magnificent.  We even got a spot right on the beach. 

Inspiration for this look brought to you by yet another clip-out from InStyle magazine as follows:

So, as I have bitched told you, recently I began to get down on some Insanity with Patrick.  I figured that since I was decently active (running around after three chirun) and fairly small, it wouldn't be that big of a deal.  What a fool I was.

 Tonight will be our third day of the sixty day workout and . . . my legs.  I swear to God.  I cannoooot move them. 

Of course, everyone had something to say about it today.  (I deserve it, honestly.)  Kaden took to calling me Robot Legs. 

Sally was sympathetic.  We devised a plan to get one of those riding staircase things in the office.  Or a walker for me.  Seriously, the stairs killed.

Dawn was strategic.  She told me I needed to eat a banana and take a hot bath. I told her that Patrick might question why I was taking a banana with me into a hot bath, but that I would try it.  ;-)

Daryl was stunned.  He thinks I've lost my mind.  He is a real health nut--a vegan in fact.  He is used to my Dr. Pepper and dollar burger eating habits.  When I brought in a bag of apples to work, he was like "you brought apples . . . like real apples . . . not from a can or anything!"  God love him.

The moral of the story is: I'm dead.  I'm dead and I am only three days in.  I thought this would be hard, but not too bad.  Wrong.  So wrong.  I nearly pulled a muscle hole punching documents today.

I guess I've taken my small frame for granted.  I did not realize how completely out of shape I was.  Man oh man.  I feel so ashamed!

Fortunately people that do actually work out have told me that after the third day, it gets better because your *insert biological term here that I don't remember* acids start to diminish.  I hope they are right. 

I don't know how much longer I can feel this horrible.  Getting into my car, going up and down stairs, driving my car and even sitting down (or standing up for that matter) are things I really can no longer try to avoid. 

Is it normal to feel 80 at 30?  Because I am starting to think that my body is about to give out.  This is . . . Insanity.  Enter at your own risk.  I better have abs like Matthew McConaughey when I am done.  For real.

  Black Pleated Midi Skirt-Isaac Mizrani, thrifted; Taupe Ruched Front Button Up Blouse-New York & Co., thrifted; Kitten Heels-BCBG, gifted; Gold Cuff-gifted; Earrings-gifted