Walking into last night's spin class I had no idea that it would be the last one led by my favorite instructor. I was blissfully unaware of the torture I was about to endure. Apparently a full-time job and being a single dad leaves him little time to abuse us twice a week.
I was really sad when he made the announcement because he's the only instructor who motivates me to give it everything I've got. If you don't leave it all on the bike in his class, you're a loser who should attend a different class so someone else who's serious can have a bike in his class.
Halfway through, or what I thought was halfway because we ended up doing an extra 15 minutes, I was regretting having made his last class. We did everything in double-time, at high resistance. There were a couple times I thought I would puke and I was gasping like a fish out of water through the entire thing. He made us do three 1-minute sprints punctuated with 1-count jumps during the second "one last song."
I'm walking like a hooker at the end of Navy Week today, but I'm invigorated by the pain. So often we get bogged down by work and home and family - life in general - that we forget to push ourselves; we become complacent and lazy. I'm not just talking about physical complacency, but social and emotional as well. Last night's work-out not only pushed my body, but my mind.
Today I plan to live out loud: I'm going to be the best employee, friend, daughter, sister, and cousin I can be. I'm going to embrace the day as if it might be my last and refuse to simply go through the motions. I'm going to tackle that work project that's been hanging over my head like a storm cloud. I'm going to drive tonight so a friend who had a tough week can blow off steam. I'm going to do those dishes that have been in the sink since Sunday. I'm going to finish this post even though I keep losing my wi-fi connection. I'm going to . . .
Ooh! There's a Doctor Who marathon stored in my DVR? Never mind. Forget I said anything.
