ouch.

So, I'm not an athlete. I faked my period at least twice a month during P.E. in high school and feigned a headache on days where I couldn't convince the coach I was menstruating for a record number of times. I've never actually played a sport. I've never even watched a sport (aside from ogling over the cute high school hockey players when I was in 8th grade. That doesn't count). My best friend was telling me once about having to sprint to a destination and I assumed she meant the phone company. (I wish I was kidding. I still haven't lived that one down.)

...And then I found Stroller Strides.

Stroller Strides had a lot of good points that drew me in. I mean, it was something to do at 8:45 a.m. as we wake up early around here. I love taking Ethan for walks in his stroller. Sometimes we powerwalk in the mall before it opens, but that requires a car ride to get there and nothing sets Ethan's negative mood for the day like a car ride. I toyed with the idea of attending a free trial class. I convinced myself that it actually seems like fun.

After spending the past few months whining that no one in our neighborhood has a baby Ethan's age, we met one of our awesome neighbors who has a son almost exactly Ethan's age. In passing conversation, I mentioned Stroller Strides. We both built one another up with bravery and agreed to meet up for the free trial class this morning after acknowledging that neither one of us even knew how to exercise.

With nightmares of fitness freaks in proper workout gear demonstrating the kind of skill to land them a starring role in an exercise video, I convinced myself it was going to be fun. And then my son decided he didn't want to sleep last night. And then I racked up a measly 2 1/2 hours of sleep by the time morning rolled around. And then the weather forecast said it was 48 degrees outside. Alas, I trudged on. I bundled us up, filled up sippy cups and water bottles and rushed us out the door in the frigid Florida weather. ...And then I got lost. My GPS took me right to the front of an apartment complex in a part of the city I've never been to before and left me there. You have reached your destination.

Eventually we made it. Ethan was losing patience with the car, the socks I was making him wear and the fact he threw his stuffed Bert doll across the car. We registered and then somehow ended up participating in the most ridiculously excruciating workout routine ever. No, really, that's what it should be called: Most Ridiculously Excruciating Workout Routine Ever. Our awesome new neighbor-friend and I exchanged glances frequently. Glances that said a mixture of "WTF?" and "is that even physically possible?" But we trudged on!

At the end, I breathlessly asked her if she was going to sign up. Every muscle in my body ached and felt like jello. I questioned if I had enough strength to lift my hands to my steering wheel to drive home. "I think so," she said. I was relieved, because I was signing up, too. Somehow in between my withering in agony with each step, I decided it was fun.

No, really, it was fun...in a masochistic, I-wish-I-still-didn't-know-what-a-resistance-band-is kind of way.

Ethan apparently figured watching his mom climb the bleachers, alternate feet and do it again was tiring. There was a time when we were doing floor exercises (that I'm pretty sure almost killed me!) when Ethan peered down at me from the comfort of his stroller and giggled. At first his smile was coy and then it widened...and turned into a giggle. You know you look pathetic when your 6 1/2 month old can't even contain his laughter!

After an hour long hot bath, I still can't move. Muscles I never knew existed are still throbbing. Still, I have to say that being an official Stroller Strider is pretty fun. I'm still trying to determine why rendering myself unable to move is so much fun, but it totally, totally is.