Now I remember who reminds me of Capt. Winters in Band of Brothers, we will call the trainer Capt. Winters. Capt. Winters is a crazy person; like run around the room screaming like a mean drill sergeant crazy, only he is hilarious at the same time making snarky comments. Plus his class was really really hard. So I decided that I would try his other class. I dropped the boy off at school and sped to the gym because I was told one needed to come early to class to set up because it fills up. I noticed the stream of speeding SUVs and minivans all heading the same way I was, then the ladies in the vehicles rushed to get out their strollers, then women pushing strollers zoomed past me to drop of their brood...and then getting really crabby when their offspring would not cooperate. It was almost embarrassing, really, to be in this line of crazy women absolutely determined to get to this one class. But when I got up there 20 minutes before class was to begin it was indeed full. I scraped together the necessary items for set up, except there were no more little barbells left just the large 45 lbs bar variety. So like any moron I drug that back to my spot, come hell or high water I was going to see what the fuss was about here. After the five minutes of set up I started to look around and noticed I was in a, what I have deemed "happy hour," class. Happy Hour at the gym is like happy hour at a bar, lots of botox, make up, designer clothes, plastic parts, and chit chatting. I started to get really uncomfortable. Unless I am super dolled up (and even then) I generally do not feel comfortable in the happy hour setting. I am not sure if I am being super judgmental or I feel like I'm the quirky shy one or what, but, I have a super hard time meeting new people. Thankfully I did see a friendly face and I mellowed a bit. Then Capt. Winters marched in and I remembered the 45 lbs. bar. Now, while I have a lot of endurance I am kind of a weakling. Plus, I am the size of a middle schooler. So in class we have techno music blaring, my arms shaking horribly, and Capt. Winters screaming, plus all that mascara that one wears to happy hour wears off in class and so its starting to look a little scary. The previous class with Capt. Winters my husband took with me and he stated after class that he should be a trainer too on account of the flock of spandex wearing ladies surrounding the said Capt. Nice. That was what I was starting to think was going on here. Yet, it was becoming increasingly difficult to think due to my upper body being engulfed in lactic acid. Then Capt. Winters started yelling that we were not to stop just because it was burning, that if you stop every time it burns you will just condition yourself to give up and never improve.
That right there sums up me. Most things come fairly easy for me...up to a point. Once I reach that point I completely shut down and move onto something else. Never ever pushing through and reaching my potential. Not even taking a step back to look around and even rearrange things in order to achieve goals, nope I feel the burn and run the other way. I don't even ask for advice I just morph into my namesake animal and maybe bray a little. Now, granted somethings in my life I truly believe I should not have been able to manifest, they simply were not the road I was to travel. But others I am not so sure. This is something that I HAVE to work on. I have broken down my life into three parts: physical, spiritual, and professional and am developing five year goals for each of them. I will NOT half ass them either. They will be done well and with care. I will ask for help and advice when I need it (whether I think I do or not), I will arrange things so nothing is a huge overwhelming burden on my family, but when things become uncomfortable and I really do feel like I can't keep going I will no longer run the other direction. Capt. Winters stated during class that we could slow down, but we were not to stop, the only way we could stop was walk out the door. (One woman actually did). I think that is precisely what kept me going with the ridiculously huge bar, I was not going to walk out the door in front of the happy hours, no, I was going to keep going shaking arms and all. Just like now, I'm done giving up. I was never promised that life is one long vacation, I can't use circumstances as excuses. It burns but I'll keep going. Perhaps I have been too judgemental on the happy hours as well, perhaps there are there not just to get a workout and stare at Capt. Winters but to workout shit in their heads too.