A Mother at the Gym

Monday night is Boot Camp night. Every week I head to Bob's Gym after work for 75 minutes of punishment. Today was no worse, but I realized how much I hate getting my ass kicked even though I know in the long run, I'll be better off.

Cue the entrace music for Tamara Grier...or my "Mom at Gym." This isn't some sort of weird "Who's your daddy" reference or title for some poorly produced B-movie. I thought of all the times my mom made me do thing as a child, whether it be clean my room, eat some funky looking vegetable or do my homework.

In some of these cases, I did what I needed to do, but every now and then, I was just mad about it and I didn't want to talk to anyone. Mom didn't care. She knew I would get back to normal in a couple of hours. Of course, I didn't know better. If I was miserable, I may as well do the same for her...at least I thought it would work.

So what soes this have to do with Boot Camp? Simply put?
1 lap run outside
100 push ups
1 more lap outside
100 more push ups
...and then some more stuff.

I'll be the first to admit. My weakness is my upper body. It's never been good. I've always biked and I would put my strength there. So 100 push ups was tough. 200...MURDER. It took me forever and everyone finished WAY before I did, but I toughed it out and did what I had to do.

I recognize that it is a weakness and I also know that I will never fix it until I bite the bullet and do something about it. So "Mom" made me do something I hate doing even though I know...and she knows...it will make me better in the long term.

Still, I'm not talking to her...until Thursday at spinning class and it will all be OK by then.