They call it Turbo Kick for a reason.

I showed up at the gym with enough time to change and relax a little before the class started. Through the glass doors of the studio I watched the end of the Core class. Women struggled to get in that last crunch before collapsing on their mat. Yikes, I thought. That looks hard.

Little did I know…

The instructor for my class walked in ahead of me. A petite blonde with two braided pigtails, she looked harmless. Looked normal.

Aside from me and Jen, there were about six girls that had all taken the class before. They all varied in height and weight and I just hoped that they wouldn’t all be super good. The instructor insured us that we’d get the hang of it and to modify steps if they were too challenging for our first time.

Well.

Thanks to my dance background, I picked up the choreographed steps easily. BUT an hour straight of squatting, lunging, punching, kicking and jumping left me wanting to take my sweaty, tomato-faced self and collapse. I was actually excited when she told us to grab a mat for cool down.

Until I realized that “cool down” was 15 minutes of ab workouts. Apparently fitness instructors are INSANE.

My ass? Officially kicked. And I can’t wait to do it again next week.

Oh yeah…then I went and played tennis because I am smart.

Today my thighs are burning, making the stairs to my office look more like a mountain. But hey, I earned that burn (that sounds gross) and I’m proud of it.

When I finally collapsed on the couch at 8:45 after my shower, eating was the last thing on my mind. But my dear, sweet boyfriend said that it wasn’t healthy to workout that hard and not eat, so he heated me up some leftovers. We then proceeded to watch the last three episodes of the Hills and I fell into a deep, exercised induced sleep.

One pound down, seven to go.