Victory...kind of

So the class this morning is called "Low and Loaded."

The class is conducted in multiple intervals: a 7 minute warm-up followed by 3 minutes and 45 seconds of low-impact aerobics followed by 15 seconds of rest and then one minute of weight lifting followed by another 15 seconds of rest...over and over and over for a grand total of 60 minutes.

I do not look at the clock at all because I know that I'll probably burst into tears at how out of breath I am and it's only 10 minutes into this thing.

The instructor, D, is muscularly thin-thin-thin, her fabulous physique shown to great advantage in a traffic-cone orange colored tank top and black bike style shorts. She has enough energy to light up New York City for a week. Maybe two. D gets us going on the moves she wants us to do and then spends the interval visiting each of us to give encouragement and help us with our form. She talks the entire time. With amazing good cheer and enthusiasm.

Does this woman ever have a bad day?

Don't think so.

The nice thing about D is that she is - thankfully - kind enough to meet me at my level. There are quite a few times where she has the class doing a move that I am able to do for a little while, but just can't sustain for the entire interval - so I march in place (as per her instructions) and she comes over to me - not to yell and get me to do the move (like other aerobics instructors I've had in the past...evil drill-sergeant demons who yell and make you feel like an idiot), but simply to march with me and encourage me to get my knees up a little higher.

"You're doing great, Girl!" she says enthusiastically as I march and pant and pant and march.

She marches, but most definitely does not pant. Or look like the marching is any particular effort on her part.

A few times I think about stopping, but decide that if I'm ever going to get this weight off and keep it off that I can't bail out when things get tough. I might need to slow down a little and march in place, but I'm not giving up.

Finally and mercifully the class comes to an end.

A number of the other participants (all regular attendees) are somewhat winded and pink in the faces by the end of what seems to me to be a grueling 60 minutes. I'm the only newbie today.

It shows.

My faded purple t-shirt is soaked in sweat. My face is radish red.

How delightful.

D hasn't even broken a sweat.

Seriously.

And she's doing an all day spin challenge right after this class is done! Insane.

"You did great today! Keep it going!" D says to me while I'm putting away my weights. She looks as fresh now as she did before she began putting us through our paces.

So, I survive my first "Low and Loaded" class, which is a kind of victory in itself. I'm going to keep attending the class - especially now that I've signed up for the Fall Fitness Challenge (yay!) My goal is to eventually - and soon - be able to sustain all of the moves that D gives us for the entire 60 minutes.

Wish me luck.

I think that I'm going to need it.