Snippets of Insanity

So I started doing Insanity.  The Insanity workout.  Why I thought that would be a good idea, I'm not sure.  I started drafting a post about the workout, what I thought of it, pros and cons, but I thought to myself: that's not my style.  Being rational and serious?  There is NO ROOM for that on this blog.

So instead, here are some tidbits of my first week of the Insanity workout.

Day 1: The Fit Test.
Before: Hmm.  It's called Fit TEST.  It must be some way to determine if I am too in shape and hawt for Insanity.  This should be easy.  I gave birth three times, I run up and down my stairs a billion times a day.  Easy peasy.
During: Oh for the love of all that is holy and good!  What the hell was I thinking?  When did I get so out of shape? WHAT?  SUICIDE DRILLS?  I don't know what those are, but I don't think...OH MY GOSH, I'M GOING TO HURL.  Wait, did I just pee myself?  What?  That's a puddle of SWEAT?  Insane.  Ah.  There it is.  That's why it's called Insanity.  Well played, Shaun T.
Conclusion: I am not fit. Damn.  Hey, what's this HipHop Abs preview?  Dancing all cool-style AND getting awesome abs? That's definitely more my style. I totally took a Hip Hop class while I was pregnant. Easy peasy. But...I don't want to spend any money.  Bah.

Day 2: Plyometric Cardio Circuit
Before: Ok.  It can't be as bad as yesterday.  That was a test.  I failed, but now I am here to learn.
During: My glasses are slipping off my nose...so much sweat.  This is just the WARM UP?  What kind of sick joke is this?  Basketball drills?  I can't play basketball, what do I care?  SUICIDE JUMPS?!  AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!
Keesadilla looks at me and says: Mommy, are you tired?  I don't think that's a good idea to do that.
After: Huddled on the floor in fetal position for about 15 minutes.  Then I use the banister to pull my formless body up the stairs, then collapse onto my bed.

Day 3: Cardio Power and Resistance
Before: Ok.  My legs are going to fall off.  If my legs worked that hard yesterday, today must be more upper body.  That's good.  I can do upper body.  I carry kids around all day.  My upper body is hard core.
During: Oh no.  I think I have to poop.  Should have went before.  No wait.  I think I have to pee.  Or vomit.  Balls. MORE LEGS!  My muscles are on FIRE! YES, SHAWN T!  I CAN FEEL THE BURN. 
Conclusion: Apprarently there is no alternating between upper and lower body.  It's just all bad.  And I don't have to poop.  My colon was just feeling the burn, too.

Day 4: Cardio Recovery
Before: Recover.  That sounds good.  Maybe we sip some tea and talk about  our feelings.
During: Stretchchchchchchchchchchh.  Oh that's nice.  Why am I sweating so much?  All I'm doing is stretching?  Maybe I am really out of shape.
After: I rocked those stretches.  Boo-ya. 

Day 5: Pure Cardio
Before: I have a good heart, I have good endurance.  This should be easy.
During: AAAAAAAAAH!  Oh God.  Save me!  No more drills with the word suicide in them!  I'm gonna hurl, I'm gonna hurl...BEEEEELLLLLCH.  That felt awful.  How can I do push ups when my hands are so sweaty they slip all over the floor? 
After: Tony looks at me and says: Whoa.  You're, like, so wet.  And red.  Are you ok?
Me: YES I'm ok.  Sheesh.
Obviously, I'm a bit sweaty.  But the people in the video look fine.  They look in shape and fit.  I am clearly as sweaty-fit looking as they are.
I look in the mirror.  Is it normal for your skin to be bright magenta?  Wow.  Oh well, it'll be better soon.
Twenty minutes later: Still magenta, hey.  Neat. Well, my orange glasses are definitely out for today.

Every part of my body hurts.  I have not had a decent poop in five days.  My boobs are probably a size smaller from all the sweating they've done.  I've gained two pounds.  Mostly muscle, I suspect.  Maybe some poop. 

My plan is to make it to 30 days. If I have not pooped by then, I'll definitely be done with Insanity, and possibly become closely acquainted with a new friend, Exlax.  If Mr. Colon is A-OK, I'll do the recovery week and keep going. No matter how much I work out, I know my breasts will never be just below my smile again.  So I will then buy myself a sweet custom-fit bathing suit, the cheaper alternative to having a post-baby post-breastfeeding boob lift. 

And then I will be able to say this was the dumbest/smartest thing I ever did.