Kicking it up a notch

You might think the kick I’m referring to is the spice level in my cooking.

Afraid not.

I’m talking about my exercise routine.

Let’s get a couple of things straight. If I never exercised another day in my life, it would be too soon.

I’d like to tell you that I look forward to exercise with the same enthusiasm as getting a pedicure. But I would be lying. There is a reason I have an exercise “buddy”. I need someone to guilt me into getting off the sofa and away from the Chester Cheese Puffs. True Story.

Oh sure, exercise gives your happy endorphins. Sometimes. The exercise people make it sound like 40 minutes of cardio is the same as a red wine buzz. It’s not. They are lying.

I think the real endorphins come from elation when the whole affair is over and I can take off my shoes and sit down.

My routine is getting a little stale. And now that I’ve settled comfortably into my 40’s, my body’s metabolism has slowed to pretty much a crawl. 30 minutes of walking or elliptical time ain’t getting it done anymore. I’m noticing ooze in places where there wasn’t ooze before. Such as…the ribcage. What is that anyway? Looks like a chicken cutlet spilling out from under my bra strap. Good god. Horrifying. Then there is the muffin top and the meno-pooch.

This is what eating ice cream every day this summer gets you. Fleshy.

Time to step up and pay the piper.

So I’ve decided I need to kick it up a notch. Confuse my muscles. Make them do something they haven’t done before. Yeah. Good plan.

So my first step in upping the ante was taking a Kick box Boot camp class through my health club.

I know.

The class is a mix of kickboxing moves and 60 second cardio drills. Surprisingly I didn’t pass out and die during the class. I held my own even though everyone in the class was younger. By a lot. However, I can tell you that upon getting out of bed the next day, I felt as if I had been run over by a large truck. This is good right? The run over by a truck feeling?

It means I worked hard. Or my body is deteriorating at a rate that is incomprehensible. Hard to say which.

So new plan…2-3 cardio type classes a week of 55 minutes each + 2, one- hour yoga type stretching classes. I’ll be reporting back in 6 weeks on the state of the muffin top, chicken cutlet and meno-pooch; although I think the latter is an unfortunate reality that will require nothing short of a trip to the plastic surgeon. If only.