I feel like a freakin’ ballerina.
That is, when I don’t feel like I’m going to fall over and die.
“Die” might be a tad dramatic. But remember the other day when I talked about getting that Feeling that you only get when you’re on a great working out streak and your body craves it as much as it used to crave Nutella?
Yeah…that feeling disappeared. I’m right back to having to force myself to get up in the morning, force myself to go through the motions, force myself to complete the workout.
I’m not saying it isn’t fun – it still is, and I still get a kick out of Chalene’s coaching – she’s pretty much the only perky blonde I can tolerate in large doses.
There are still plenty of challenges – lots of challenges. But the novelty has worn off, and we’re getting into the nitty gritty of it all. I have to face the fact that this is a lifelong journey, not just an 8-week challenge. There will probably be more days than not that my alarm will go off and I will wish I could just roll over and sleep an extra hour.
But where will that get me?
Somewhere, sure. But not where I want to be.
Today, as we were winding down the workout, we were in down dog, and then we raised our legs (I can still do it!), and then Chalene was all, “Okay, now slide through and into pigeon,” so I did, and then I was sitting there in pigeon, which might be the most comfortable position ever, and it hit me:
I slid through into pigeon.
I didn’t put my raised leg down and then half squat and then awkwardly bend my leg forward and smush myself down into pigeon. Which yes, I have done before.
I slid. Oh so gracefully. See? A freakin’ ballerina I am.
I’m like this chick. See how she owns it?: