Here is the face of someone who has just worked out in hell:
I can tell you, that girl is not impressed. I swear I can't even believe I just got through that. By far the biggest accomplishment yet.
So last night we got home some time after 2a.m. and I was feeling prrreeeettty good. At the dinner party there were negroni cocktails. There was prosecco. There was wine. A lot of wine. I even had an espresso and I don't drink coffee! There was an Italian theme and everyone brought different dishes and it was an actual feast. Crostini, proscuitto wrapped asparagus, roasted fennel and white bean dip, caperese salad, risotto balls, lasgana rolls, and the list goes on. Even home-made ice cream for dessert! So I'm also suffering from a food hangover.
Such delicious, and rich, food. Here's a picture:
Yet this morning at 9a.m. I hopped out of bed to walk the dog. You see, I very often fall victim to the delayed hangover. The morning always starts off hunky dory but I just have to wait... after the dog walking and getting my banana pancake on and even running out to Telus to have my (brand new!) phone replaced (now I can finally make outgoing calls again) I joined my husband on the couch to watch a soccer game. And I knew that perhaps I had been a little too ambitious all morning. The hangover set in. I didn't feel so hot...and eventually I fell asleep. I woke up when hubby was headed out the door to play soccer. Well...if he could run off to play soccer, surely I could work out for 20 minutes...
WRONG.
I felt like I was going to hurl the whole time. I dragged my butt. I decided to just accept the fact that it was going to hurt and to just push through and get it over with. I felt so crappy about how pathetic I was during the first five minutes of the workout, before I managed to pull myself together, that when it was finally over I did ten extra push-ups and 20 extra squat & presses. Yep. I punished myself. But if I'm going to bother to do it all, I'm going to do it right.
This was definitely the most I've sweated since starting the shred. Which I'm hoping means some of the food & alcohol toxins from my over-indulgence last night seeped out through my pores. I'm currently sitting in the ice box of a sunroom we have on the back of our house while I write this because I am so overheated. I'm sure this is probably bad for my muscles and I risk catching a chill but I'm honestly afraid I may burst into flames.
I could have waited until later this evening to workout but who wants to do that on a Saturday night? Plus I really want to have a shower and I'm not going to shred after I shower. I'm glad I didn't wait because now it's done and I survived!
I don't want to have to go through that again so next time I'm out at a party I'm going to try harder to remember that everything is better in moderation. Except maybe that home-made ice cream...
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