Last night at the gym, as I ran to clock in my two-miles for the day as directed by Hal, my calves shot out flames and hit the pretty people working the elliptical trainers behind me.

Well, OK, not really, but Lord did they ever hurt.

The burlesque dance class from the night before did a number on my calves that running hasn't done since years ago when I first began the sport again. For a majority of the class, you're on your tip toes, with your butt sticking out, and all of that stress on my calves nearly broke me last night. I had to speed walk some of it, but I got it done and then moved on to all upper body work.

Am I the only one who, when she's doing any sort of weight exercises involving her chest, constantly has the phrase, "I must, I must, I must increase my bust" while doing it? Maybe it's because I don't have much of a bust to speak of ...

So coupled with the fact that I had an editorial meeting waaaay out in the northern suburbs today, meaning that I missed the "Shredded" class at David Barton, and my faulty calves, I decided to take today off. Which I really needed to anyway, considering I hadn't missed a gym day since Saturday.

There was a sense of fear, though, in making that decision. It's been so long since I've had a week like this that for a moment I was scared that I was falling back again. That I'd break the cycle. That I'll never get back into shape. That I'll never again be free to eat cheese with wanton lust. Of course, that makes no sense at all but you know how it goes - when you've succeeded and slipped, only to struggle like hell to get back, you know all too well how long it takes to form that habit again.

For tomorrow I'm going to try and find a kickboxing class within the many pages of the passbook. I miss kickboxing terribly and I've had such a rough week, it would be nice to end it punching and kicking things.

Posted by Erin at 07:48 PM | filed under: Random

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