All Activity Levels my f-ing ass!

As I stated in my last post - it's time to lose a few.  Where I work, there is this service that is offered to all the employees where everyday there is a different exercise opportunity offered that is free.  Like, on Mondays it could be a Yoga class and then Tuesdays - it's walking, etc.  I decided that this might be the perfect way to work out because it's free, it's a different class everyday - so I won't get bored, and best of all - I can do it during the day and not lose anymore time in the evenings I don't have anyways.

So, the first class I did was the 'Stairclimbers' class.  I brought a change of clothes to do this in and because I do not work out on a regular basis and because I am quite a bit heavier than I was the last time I attempted to work out, my 'workout' outfit consisted of a pair of velour pants (that were about two sizes too small, so they kept rolling down below my gut and when I pulled them up over my gut, they gave me a camel toe) and one of my husband's ratty T-shirts (to cover the camel toe).  I looked at the class description on our company's intranet and it said that the class was for 'all activity levels'.  'Good', I thought.  I was hoping that meant that most of the people attending the class would be similar to me and that we would be starting off at a slow pace.

I walk over to where the class was supposed to meet and thought it was a little odd that we were meeting in the stairwell.  I also noticed that there was this group of young, skinny, barbies with fake boobs also waiting in the stairwell.  I was wondering what they were waiting for when the skinniest of the boobie brigade said, "Okay, everyone - let's get started!"  And no joke, she also clapped her hands and started trotting in place, while the other girls trotted up behind her, two by two, and started to climb the stairs in the stairwell.

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!  So, not only am I going to be working out with the cast from 'Baywatch' but we are climbing the stairwell of this building.

I told myself, "Okay - so it's not what you thought, but suck it up!  You can do this!  You used to be a dancer for crying out loud (not the erotic kind) and even though the last time you climbed stairs was to get to the vending machine on the 3rd floor - you can totally do this!"

I started up after the group and did my best to try and only be about two flights behind them.  And when I said they were the cast from Baywatch, I wasn't joking.  They were all wearing these matching outfits - which were these skin-tight red fitted Ts and either black yoga capris or black tennis skirts.  They marched up two-by-two and I noticed that none of them were even wearing their hair tied back.  Their hair and makeup were all perfectly done and not one of them was even breathing hard and their breasts were riding high as they filed  up the stairs - looking like a bunch of plastic surgery Hitlers.

I, on the other hand, was not faring so well.  As we approached the 5th floor, my heart was pounding and my breathing was labored and my legs started to feel like lead.  I started to lean on the railing for support....but still I soildered on.

At the 7th floor, the leader actually jogged back down to where I was (which at this point was about three flights behind) and asked how I was doing.  Actually, she more like sang it....,"So, howwww are weeeeee doinggg hereeee?"  I just smiled and gave the 'thumbs up' sign.  Since, it had been at least 2 flights since I'd had any oxygen; I couldn't make my mouth say anything and I was afraid if I did, than the only thing to come out would be drool since the left side of my face was numb - probably from the stroke I was having.  And then Pamela Anderson actually jogged back up the stairs to catch up with the rest of the group and take her place at the head of the pack.

Floor 10.  I'm hallucinating.  Everytime I get to the landing for the next floor - I look at the window and the street is spinning below me.  I also can't hear above my own heartbeat, which is screaming with every pulse, "WHAT THE F DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO ME?!!"  I'm zig-zagging up the steps and stumbling.  I'm actually pulling myself up the stairs by the railing. I look up and see the tail end of the pack.  I yell up to the last girl, "Hey, how many flights are there?"  Only, it came out like, "Haaaaaay, ho nny its (cough, gasp, choke) arrrrrre there?"  She looked at me like, 'Ewww - who let that thing in here?'.  I had to repeat myself and then she merrily sang, "Oh - just fourteeeeeeeeeen."  Holy, Jesus - Mother of God.

Floor 14.  I made it.  Well, I actually crawled up the last set of steps.  I kind of had to roll out of the way though - because the Spandex Squad was about to trample me as they immediately ran back down the steps - all the way to the 1st floor.  I thought, 'Surely walking down is so much easier and it will give me time to recoup.'  Well, here is a law of physics that I learned when I took my first step down.  When you've been draggin a whole bunch of weight uphill and then suddenly you reverse and go downhill - it takes a while for your legs to realize that it no longer has to push forward; that there is gravity helping you out and thus not a lot of force is needed.  What I thought I was doing in my brain - which was walking lightly down the steps - I actually saw my body propel me forward with the speed of a ninja.  Only, my feet couldn't keep up and I ended up looking like some invisible force was yanking me down the steps.  I think I even hollard out, "Whoa, whoa!" - like you do a horse who wants to giddy-up a little too much.  I never could quite regain control of my legs or my speed and somehow ended up catching up and then passing everyone and actually had to throw myself into the wall on the first floor just to come to a stop.

After everyone gets to the floor - the only sound you hear is me gagging.  I sounded like a dog that has been taken for a walk on a leash - for the first time in it's life - and has had to be constantly restrained the whole time.  I'm bent over, head between my legs, gasping, staggering......and everyone is just staring at me like, "Oh, poor fat lady.  But good for her - at least she's a fat lady who's trying to do something about it."  Miss Spanx walks around - still trotting - and clapping her hands.  "ALRIGHT EVERYONE....GOOD JOB!  NOW, LET'S GO AGAIN."  And back up she goes - where everyone falls in line, two by two, right behind her.  F THIS!  I decide there is no way in hell I'm doing that again.  I don't even think I can walk back to my office.  If I would have had my cell phone, I would have called someone to come get me.  I try to open the door out of the stairwell.........and it's locked.  I try it again and no budge.  I realize that it has to be opened with a mangnetic card.  And now, it's dawning on me that the only person who has such a card would be the evil set of silicon jaunting up the stairs.  I look up and see that she is already up to the 3rd floor.  I can't even hollar out; I have no breath.  I can either run up to catch her (and probably die in the process) or just wait until they come back down again.  I tell myself, "Just run up and catch her - you can do it!"  I go up a few stairs and then think, "Who the F am I kidding."  So, now I'm on the 2nd floor.  I decided just to wait for her, but then tried to handle on that door just to check.......and success!  Door was unlocked!

I bust through it and stagger out in front of some offices and someone actually says to me, "Oh God!  Are you okay?  Do we need to get some help?"  I barely made it back to my office and was sick to my stomach the whole day.  Then I spent the next week (a full seven days) in complete pain and walking like I'd had a hip replacement.  So, as I was walking to my office the next day and hobbling and wincing and cursing everything, it dawned on me, "Oh God - that was my moment!"  If you read my previous blog, than you know that everytime I need to lose weight, there will be a moment where something will happen that will embarrass the fat right off of me.  And that day in the stairwell was definitly my moment.