Whew. So the past 2 weeks have been beyond insane. As Murphy would have it, all angles of my life snowballed and became hectic all at the same time. So while I have tons to update you all about, I'm going to start with today. This morning at 8:30am to be exact...
Here's the background: It has become readily apparent that Hubby is fed up with my lack of fitness regiment and therefore lack of progress in the weight/appearance category. Sure, it's easy for him to judge seeing as how he hasn't popped out THREE HUMAN BEINGS WITHIN THE LAST FIVE YEARS, but whatev. Fine.
So, it appears that he took it upon his well-intentioned self to take matters into his own hands and create a bootcamp for his struggling wife. Sounds sweet doesn't it? That he was concerned and took action to support me in getting fit? I suppose it is on one level, but the real problem is that Hubby is an athlete. Used to strength coaches and 2-A-Days and training camps. Me? Not so much. Anyway, on Friday he came home grinning from ear to ear clutching a bag from Modell's and looking all proud of himself. Turns out he bought me a ProGym in a Bag, courtesy of GoFit. And then, this morning bright and early, he kicked my behind.
I did crunches (on the driveway pavement - and, no I wasn't "permitted" to get my yoga mat). I did leg lifts. I did sprints. Yes, he did set up cones up and down our sidewalk. Yes, I was mortified. I did squats with the resistance bands. I even did DB exercises, including one where the flipppin' resistance band was wrapped around my waist and I had to squat and shuffle from cone to cone. And I finished the workout up with suicides.
And I did it all. With my three darlings cheering for me along the sidelines and Hubby timing me with his Commissioner stopwatch. It was brutal. I thought I was going to die. But I had to do it. Yes, for me, but more so...for him.