I walked into the YMCA gym today thinking it would be like any other day: I would quietly go through the exercises then smile and leave, knowing a cold shower and fat, warm cats awaited my arrival at home.
But HiP guy has an informant. "Jill" I believe.
I've been outed. And now I'm on his radar.
...and he would like me to refer to him as "Fox."
Fox tried to kill me tonight. It seemed like an hour of pure tricep abuse. We ran to warm up, and there were some sprints mixed in, but mostly it was pain.
Fox made us go up two pounds in weights. The Y didn't have 7-pounders, so I had to go to eights. Mistake No. 1.
We did every possible maneuver you could think of to wreak havoc on my poor, underdeveloped triceps. Then when I thought we might be done with weights, we did two different kinds of push-ups.
We wrapped up with abs. I've been practicing the 6-inch leg lifts during my non-bootcamp days, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. The worst part about it was the pain shooting from my thumb (I ripped my fingernail to the quik and it throbs every time I apply pressure).
The good news is if I can make it through a night like tonight's bootcamp, I may just be able to make it through the whole thing. (Staton - er, I mean "Fox" - please don't get any ideas! I think I may have just made Mistake No. 2)
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