That was insane. If anything is going to get me in shape, this is. My pecs are on fire, my triceps are screaming, and my quads can hardly keep my body upright. But I liked it! Even though the most notable event of the evening was the rest of my class cheering me on to finish my 75th push-up (on my knees) with arms that jiggled like jello, and when I was finally done I was so tired that I lay flat on my face on a disgusting, rubberized gym floor. I was the last one to finish our workout, but I still liked it. Maybe it’s because I’m telling myself that they all started out in better shape than me. Maybe it’s because we cheered for each other. Maybe it’s because if you told me three days ago that I could do 75 push-ups (even on my knees and not all at once) I wouldn’t have believed it. So I know that this is going to push me to do things that I didn’t think I could do. Definitely more motivation than a woman in leg warmers telling me to rhumba over a fitness step.

I haven’t worked out like that since I played high school volleyball, back in the day. Well, I may have been as sore after a long run or ride, but I have never started out from scratch and dived into such a serious workout. In high school, at the end of the school year our coach would say something like, “Okay, I want everyone running 10 miles a week, doing push-ups and sit-ups, and staying in shape over the summer.” We would all nod and then go to the beach and eat ice cream and French fries for two months. The first day of school would be our first day of practice and our coach would send us up and down the bleachers on one leg, then the other, then on two. Then we’d run suicides and jump over hurdles and do net-top touches. Then we’d dive, roll, and scramble. Then we’d have a game. The next day I could hardly walk the school halls, let alone get down a flight of stairs. That’s how I feel today. But I like it.