I don't know who this Shaun T. thinks he is, but I think I already hate him.
Today I began the journey of INSANITY.
It hurt. I felt fat, flabby and gross. I was able to make it through the Fit Test, but I was ashamed and horrified at how awful my body felt as I was flopping around on the floor, barely able to get through one fucking minute of each exercise.
At one point, I curled into the fetal position and started to cry.
Where has my lean body gone? My six-time marathon body? My lean legs, my strong, rippled abs? They are buried under a layer of fat and love. I've let myself go. It's my own fault. I have no one else to blame but the squishy Buddha belly reflected in the mirror, and the ridiculously large breasts, trying to squeeze themselves into my previously well-fitting sports bras.
Fit Test complete. Measurements taken.
Measurements as of 2/3/11:
INSANITY Fit Test results 2/3/11:
Power Jacks: 42
Power Knees: 72
Power Jumps: 30
Globe Jumps: 9
Suicide Jumps: 10
PushUp Jacks: 20
Low Plank Obliques: 38
I'm going to insert some walking and perhaps even get back to some running. My goals are modest for now, and somewhat vain.
I want to fit nicely into my fucking bras again, and lose the junk in my trunk. And somewhere under all that squishy stuff, there are washboard abs just screaming to get out again. Time to find them.
And, somewhere deep down, there is still the heart of a runner...