Back in sixth grade, we had to do presentations about South and Latin American countries. The presentations were to be fairly elaborate: each pair of students presenting on one country would have a six foot table, from which they were expected to dress up in locally culturally appropriate garb, and present the highlights of the country's unique culture.
At that time, I was fascinated about Costa Rica, and incredibly excited about the assignment. I was one of the very first people to sign up, without any hesitation.
At the end of the day, I went back to the sign up sheet to see if anyone had signed up with me, finding my classmate Kimberly Looft was my partner. Kimberly was one of the cool kids, so hey, this was great!
When I went over to talk to her, I overheard her saying to someone else, "I signed up with Kitty. I'm going to get an A!"
I don't know if I walked away, or continued to walk up to talk to her, but I do remember becoming very annoyed at Kimberly.
I kept the annoyance throughout the project. Instead of leading the project development, I followed. What do you want done? I'd do the minimum effort needed for the task athand. If she wants an A, I thought, she'll earn it.
The only serious effort I put into the project was to research (before the Intarweb™, people!) and prepare local, mid-millenium, interesting foods. I made a strange corn tortilla-like pancake, and an interestingly tasty bitter chocolate drink (this, when it wasn't uncommon for me to eat two pounds of chocolate in one sitting).
The food may have been the only thing that saved our grade, as our table was disappointingly empty, as I didn't decorate it. Especially compared to the Mexico table next to us, which had flags and music, and food and maps and colors colors colors.
We earned a B on the project, which affected my overall grade of an A not at all. I don't know if it adversely affected Kimberly's grade.
Today's workout at Velocity Sports made me feel like Kimberly.
The workout was:
This workout was done with a partner. Each activity could be divided in any way the partners wanted, 50/50, 60/40, etc.
When the workout was described, Kris immediately called out, "I'm partnering with Breanne!" We all laughed. I figured I'd partner with someone else, but Kris surprised me and asked if I would be his partner. "Keep it in the family!" he says.
So, we started out. Sixteen runs, 400m each, no problem. 100 pullups? Uh, okay. I did 10, Kris did 10. I did 10, Kris did 10. I was doing my pullups assisted, with a band. Kris did pullups for real. A real man.
I barely squeaked out my 50 total.
Sixteen runs, I did my eight, though more slowly than Kris did his eight.
Two hundred pushups. That's 100 each, if we go 50/50. Oooooookaaaaaaay.... 10 for me. 20 for Kris. Oh, yeah? 20 for me, 20 for Kris. I tried upping my numbers from 20, but it just wasn't happening. I dropped back down to 15, then 13, then 12. Kris stayed strong, letting us split at about 47/53.
Sixteen runs, with Kris' fitness kicking in. He did nine, and I did eight, before I realized he said, "meet you down there," and not "mumble you down there."
300 situps? 150 situps for me? No problem. I started with 20, to which Kris answered with 30. Oh yeah? I did 35, and Kris answered with 35 back. We were flying through this exercise.
For the first 100.
Fatigue set in and we started slowing. Around 160 I was feeling Monday's abs workout. Around 220, I was back down to 15 situps, not stopping even though I was really slowing down. I wanted to give Kris as much rest as I could, which was easy (just keep going) and hard (just keep going) at the same time.
When I stood up to run my eight laps, nausea rolled over me and I almost sat back down. Kris must have sensed my wooziness (yes, a real word), as he ran 10 of the laps, for my 6. The knot in my knee didn't help.
Neither did the hamstrings, which were strung tighter than a bow string.
Kris and I threw down the gauntlet on the squats, being the last partner sets, and determined to jump up to finish second. 30 squats for me, 30 squats for Kris, 30 squats for me, 40 squats for Kris. Down. Up. Down. Up. Keeping form but going fast, 35 squats for me, 40 squats for Kris, 30 squats for me, 50 squats for Kris. 35 squats for me, more for Kris. We cranked them out, finishing the workout only 3 minutes late, and second overall (not that it was a contest or anything, but the workout was supposed to be done as fast as possible without losing form).
My legs hurt. My arms hurt. My stomach hurts. My head is starting to hurt. I have a train ride and a 45 minute walk home left to do before I can rest.
Maybe that walk will make up for my Kimberly moment earlier.