If Exercise Is So Great, Why Does It Hurt So Much?

My muscles finally gave out on me in Costco. I knew it would be coming, but I thought I had a little bit more time. I slumped against the cart, holding myself up by the handlebar, and begged God for just a little more strength. Just enough to get through my shopping trip and back home.

Because I'm pretty sure if you fall in Costco and can't get back up again, they would insist on calling an ambulance. I could see myself trying to explain the situation to the EMT as I was being wheeled out on a stretcher.

EMT: Ma'am, do you know what happened? Anything you tell us could be helpful.

Me: Um, well, actually, it's pretty simple? I was just at the gym? And I had my first workout with a personal trainer? And now my muscles won't work?

(I tend to turn statements into questions when I'm embarrassed.)

Thankfully, God heard my prayer, or saw the ambulance scenario running through my mind and decided to spare me, and I was able to keep going.

Six hours later, the shock to my system has worn off and I'm starting to experience some serious pain. I'm trying to tell myself it's GOOD pain. Like, oh, yeah, it's hurts so GOOD. But I'm a wimp, and it's bad!

There is only one other time I've felt like this. Our plane arrived at JFK late and we only had five minutes to get to another terminal for our international connection, no time to wait for the stroller to unload. Gilberto took off running so he could hold the gate, and left me with our four carry-ons and a two year old. I ran as fast as I could, and about half way there started sobbing because I didn't think my legs were going to hold me up anymore. They didn't hurt, they just turned into goo.

Well, I've left the goo phase and have moved on to the not wanting to move an inch phase.

I can't believe I scheduled another appointment for Monday. My trainer knew what he was doing when he got me to the appointment book immediately after my session, before the full force of our workout hit me.

The rebel in me just can't help herself, though. My plan for pain control? An sedentary evening in front of the TV with a never ending glass of high calorie Jack and coke.

Hellooooo, Jack.