Aerobic Hell
On Monday nights, the Princess and I usually enjoy the an hour of cardio kickboxing to set the week off right.
This last Monday, our instructor was nowhere to be found. Hopefully she wasn't abducted by aliens. Nevertheless, a high energy replacement came to take her place. Except he wasn't running kickboxing. He was the "Hi/Lo" instructor. And he was fucking psycho.
He looked a little bit like Luis Guzman, if Luis was a drill seargent on speed. He started booming into the microphone and would. Not. Quit.
We weren't sure exactly what this "Hi/Lo" mumbo-jumbo meant. Were we in for a nasty surprise!
There was weirdo choreography with kicking and knee raises and you had to keep your arms up no matter how much they started to hurt, and the music was sped up so it was like working out to the fucking Chipmunks, and all the while the Princess and I were spinning in the wrong direction and looking at each other like WHAT THE FUCK?!
After 30 minutes we just couldn't hang anymore. My feet hurt as much as they do when I hit the 9th mile of an endurance run. And after running the day before, my hips were hating me. This didn't help our relationship.
The guy was Puerto Rican. I thought he'd be cool, not a workout nazi. Not so much. On the way out, the Princess told me I should cut him.
Hee. For a split second, I forgot how we deal with these little situations.
Next time...
11 comments:
hmmm, hispanic billy blanks meets alvin, simon and theodore. i think i can work with that. can you get me some studio time? we're gonna be rich, i tell ya. rich!
You might want to wear a helmet next workout.
You might want to wear a helmet next workout.
-- And Beta blows!
You might want to wear a helmet next workout.
You might want to wear a helmet next workout.
These sorts of people are what make me dread the gym.
JY: Yes, he was the brown Billy Blanks, but worse! I say we throw him into oncoming traffic.
HW: Look who isn't dead!
HW: Look who isn't dead!
HW: Look who isn't dead!
HW: Where the hell have you been?
Roonie: I hate Ballys.
I'm begining to think that The treadmill, the eliptical machine, and the Spinning class are beginning to look really freaking good right about now. As much as I hate the spinning class because it looks like a dumb thing anything is better than the puerto rican fitness nazi screaming at me and telling me not to stop when I need a freaking drink of water. I bet he talked major shit after we walked out of his class.
The only way I could go to the gym would be on speed. I think it's possible to cram 30 minutes of workout into, say, 7 minutes. I'd be pumping those barbells, on a treadmill, with ankleweights, and sweatbands on every joint.
Chix who kick, kick.
Ouch ouch ouch it hurts just reading about it.
My hips still haven't forgiven me that indiscretion. I couldn't even run a full two miles tonight.
I'm sitting at my computer with my pelvis wrapped in ice.
It's not pretty.
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