Laugh. Even When You're Tired, Cranky and Caffeineless

I spent most of this past week traveling for work, so I really looked forward to sleeping in come the weekend. I find myself saying that every weekend, and it never fails that either my dog or my alarm destroy that dream. I woke up around 7:00 a.m. this Saturday to attend Boot Camp Conditioning (formerly Urban Iron) at LA Fitness.  I was groggy. I was sleepy. I had no coffee.

I hopped on my bike for a 2-mile ride to the gym anyway.

I walked in to learn the Urban Iron class was replaced weeks ago with the Boot Camp class, so I was slightly upset.  I normally like to mix up my workouts -- cycling, running, hiking, going to the climbing wall, lifting and anything else that builds muscle and raises my heart rate. But when the instructor turned up the music and started doing a dancy, prancercizing aerobic thingy, I secretly started to panic. I am a slightly uncoordinated, tall white woman. I can't hide this. Similarly, this is the same reason why I've only tried Zumba once.

Credit: Pinterest

But instead of leaving (and going to Coffee Tree Roasters across the parking lot) like I wanted to, I stuck around and gave it my all. My partner and I laughed at each other for the first ten minutes.  Well, most of this was me laughing at myself.

But once we were through with all the dancing (or the intention of dancing I should say), the class was incredibly challenging. The Boot Camp Conditioning class essentially combines aerobics, kick boxing, pilates, step and high repetition weight lifting. This morning I took a free yoga class at Lululemon on Walnut Street in Shadyside to stretch through some of the soreness I felt after the Boot Camp class.

I realized ten minutes into the class that the ability to laugh at oneself is incredibly important when training for any race. I can remember training for the Tough Mudder and chasing all of the kids away from the monkey bar area at the nearest playground so I could get my obstacle training in that day. Instead of getting frustrated when small children would show me up on the bars, I would just laugh at myself. During the first Tough Mudder, I fell into a pool of muddy, cold water after two bars. After much practice, one year later I got all the way across.  Sometimes it just takes a little laughter to get through the pain, frustration or embarrassment.