You ever take a break from running/working out/not napping, and when you do finally return to exercising your body goes through a host of emotions? This happened to me recently. I took a Cardio Circuit class and just warming up (hopping from side to side like an ice skater/pro-bowler) elicited surprising pops and cracks I didn’t even know where possible. Turns out the whole not-moving-thing let my joints just settle into themselves. Lovely. The popping lasted longer than I thought it would, but then quickly transitioned into whatever survival instinct kicks in once you realize you’re violently gasping for air because your body is moving faster than it has in weeks. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
After that came the realization that I’m not as strong as I was the last time I did this. That’s sobering. So as I struggled through what seemed like hours of planks, where my knee rested on the ground more often than I’d like to admit, I conceded that this got harder. I lived for the part were I could do an ab workout because that meant I wasn’t standing or lifting anything…I was just lying down trying to breathe through the pain.
Somewhere during this hour, though, things got fun. The music was upbeat (Meghan Trainor, anyone?), it felt good to be moving again, and as badly as I was out of breath and as hard as it was, it turns out my muscles didn’t all turn to mush. I got home, happily devoured some pizza (it was Pizza Night, after all), and was super excited to be back out there!
The next morning, however… The soreness of every single muscle outweighed the excitement I felt the night before. Did you know your love handles can get sore? Because I didn’t.