Saturday, I went back to Kettlebell, with a handful of reservations, including the fact that last time I left the studio, I couldn’t walk properly for at least three days.
But never one to give up on a challenge, JD and I decided that we should go back.
We even bought a package of classes, so for the next month or so, I won’t be able to avoid Gene, our Russian instructor.
This week’s class was different, featuring more floor and ab work, and a couple of sessions of pushups.
When Gene ordered me to do pushups, I nearly flipped out, but instead, I just lowered myself to the ground.
And collapsed a little.
Pushups are not my thing.
We also started a little bit late, which I was torn about.
On the one hand, every minute that ticked by without starting class meant one less moment that I would be tortured by the kettlebell.
On the other hand, I paid for the torture.
I mean, the class.
And I should be moving every minute of it, toning (and tearing) my muscles.
Luckily, Gene solved the problem, by apologizing for being late, and then instructing us,
“We must catch up. By going at the speed of bullet train. Made by Russians.”
And that is exactly what happened.
Russian made bullet trains, it turns out, move fast.
At another point in the class, as my energy waned and my ankles screamed, because I hit them with the stupid bell several times (again!), someone joked about how energetic Gene seemed to be, hopping around and completing difficult moves with absolute ease.
He then grew serious.
And told us that he gets his energy from the universe.
And the universe is infinite.
So is his energy, apparently.
All in all, the class was equally as hard this time as it was the last, but I’m encouraged by the fact that I woke up Sunday with only moderate, not crippling, soreness, and last night I managed to run.
And this morning I got in the pool, so I’d say my mobility is good.
Nikki: 1, Kettlebell: 1.
Today I’m hoping to enjoy the sunshine and the gradual climb to unseasonal temperatures, and I suggest you do the same!