I wondered, during the insanity of working seven long days a week, what I would do with just one totally free day, and today I got to find out.
It was wonderful.
I went to a mixed martial arts class in the morning. I've never been to an MMA class before, and I never would have dared to go if I hadn't been going to my fighting class for over a year now, because MMA seems like such a guy thing. I was worried about being surrounded by super dedicated martial arts guys. Plus I know the instructor of this class (he sometimes attends and/or fills in teaching my fighting class), and his idea of a warmup is my idea of can I go home and sleep now?
It was a very small class, although the one other person there did lap me multiple times during the run-sprawl-some-sort-of-knee-recovery. And I did indeed feel limp like an overcooked noodle after the warmup. I recovered.
One thing about this instructor that I remembered from the TRX class I once took with him is that his classes are longer than an hour partly because he likes to do a yoga cool-down.
I can't stand yoga. I know some people love it (hi, SHO!), but I despise yoga. Partly this is just because my wrists are gimpy. Anything that requires staying in one position with weight on my hands gets almost unbearably painful really quickly. Partly it is because I am ever-so-slightly hyperactive (my sister thinks our entire immediate family is), and why on earth would you choose a sport for which you stay in one position for any amount of time when you could be HITTING THINGS?
I survived. I felt quite the tough person for making it through the class.
It turns out, if given an entirely free day, I will do the following things in addition to a crazy men's fighting class: go a bookstore, get a pedicure, do an obscene number of loads of laundry, play on the computer, and watch a movie. (This movie: Saved. I was most amused.)
It took me almost three hours to get around to making myself something to eat this evening, not because of the popcorn I intended to make (with butter and brewer's yeast and salt and pepper, yum), because it seemed like so much work to cut myself an apple. Yes, I was stymied by an apple. Yes, I know that is ridiculous. Yes, I did eventually cut the apple.
I did not, however, get around to cleaning the kitchen. That, I believe, is why weekends have two days.
It was wonderful.
I went to a mixed martial arts class in the morning. I've never been to an MMA class before, and I never would have dared to go if I hadn't been going to my fighting class for over a year now, because MMA seems like such a guy thing. I was worried about being surrounded by super dedicated martial arts guys. Plus I know the instructor of this class (he sometimes attends and/or fills in teaching my fighting class), and his idea of a warmup is my idea of can I go home and sleep now?
It was a very small class, although the one other person there did lap me multiple times during the run-sprawl-some-sort-of-knee-recovery. And I did indeed feel limp like an overcooked noodle after the warmup. I recovered.
One thing about this instructor that I remembered from the TRX class I once took with him is that his classes are longer than an hour partly because he likes to do a yoga cool-down.
I can't stand yoga. I know some people love it (hi, SHO!), but I despise yoga. Partly this is just because my wrists are gimpy. Anything that requires staying in one position with weight on my hands gets almost unbearably painful really quickly. Partly it is because I am ever-so-slightly hyperactive (my sister thinks our entire immediate family is), and why on earth would you choose a sport for which you stay in one position for any amount of time when you could be HITTING THINGS?
I survived. I felt quite the tough person for making it through the class.
It turns out, if given an entirely free day, I will do the following things in addition to a crazy men's fighting class: go a bookstore, get a pedicure, do an obscene number of loads of laundry, play on the computer, and watch a movie. (This movie: Saved. I was most amused.)
It took me almost three hours to get around to making myself something to eat this evening, not because of the popcorn I intended to make (with butter and brewer's yeast and salt and pepper, yum), because it seemed like so much work to cut myself an apple. Yes, I was stymied by an apple. Yes, I know that is ridiculous. Yes, I did eventually cut the apple.
I did not, however, get around to cleaning the kitchen. That, I believe, is why weekends have two days.
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