Today the rain fell constantly in a not-quite-a-downpour but not-quite-sprinkling type of rain. I had far too many moments of staring out the window while the dread washed over me. I knew I had to go to my outdoor bootcamp class tonight. I took last week off for having a cold, tonight I had to go. The worst thing about working out outside in the rain is having to do things like planks and push-ups, as they leave my gloves dripping wet and my fingers frozen. Thankfully my good friend S texted to commiserate over how awful the weather was. I love all of my bootcamp friends, but having her there always makes me extra happy because we chat the hour away.
For all of my complaining, my dreading, my whining, my bargaining with myself to get out of the workouts when the weather is terrible ("I swear I won't eat the rest of the day if I skip class!") I have never, not once, regretted having gone once class is over. Tonight was no exception. Once I was out there at the track I found that the rain didn't really bother me. Shortly after that point the rain pretty much stopped all together. Maybe it gave up trying to quash my resolve.
It was a tough class. Millions and bajillions of squats interspersed with jumping jacks, lunges and balancing poses to get us started. Then we raced up and down the stairs in the stadium so many times I lost count. We ran step by step. We skipped steps. We skipped up the steps (see the difference?). We shuffled up sideways. We hopped up them . . . all of the way to the top, two feet at a time like a bunny. Then we did a routine of five push-ups, five mountain climbers, dash up the stairs, do ten jumping jacks and come back down. All of that ten times. Well, S and I only did it nine times since all of our gabbing slowed us down tremendously, ha!
Right about now you may be wondering what my post title is about, and here it is: tonight is the first time of weekly bootcamp classes that I did all of my push-ups like a big girl. No knees on the ground anymore. I have pushed harder (literally!) to do real push-ups in the wet weather simply to keep my legs dry and I think, finally, the effort is paying off. I still can't do more than maybe a dozen in a row, but doing them in bursts of five interspersed with other things is do-able. Of course, about 40 push-ups in I felt a painful stab in my back, like I pulled something. That effectively ended my push-ups for the night. Go big or go home, right?
Yesterday in yoga I was practicing chaturanga, a pose where you start in a plank and, hugging your elbows to your side, lower yourself so your upper arms are parallel to the ground and hold it there. To my surprise, I could do it! Well, I did one. Then we tried wheel pose, or urdhva dhanurasana. I couldn't get my head off the ground to save my life.
It is pretty fun to be surprised by strength I didn't know I had. I think that is one of the things that keeps pushing.