I survived the workout.

Just barely.

Actually, that's a bit dramatic. It went better in some ways, and worse in others, than I was expecting it to.

I didn't huff and puff nearly as much as I thought I would, but then it wasn't a cardio class tonight. However, where a year ago I would have been using eight- and ten-pound weights (we did arms), tonight I was using three- and five-pound ones. I know that it's better than not using any weights, and it know it's my own damn fault for not going to the gym for nearly a year, but it was still hard to realize how far I've backslid, strengthwise.

Hard, too, was realizing that M is training two girls to come teach for her, when exactly a year ago I was signing up to take my Fitness Instructor Certification. I signed up for, then withdrew from, the class. To this day, I don't know why. M has (or had, a year ago) all the faith in the world that I could teach for her. My family, friends and fellow gym members were all excited and so supportive. It was just me. I couldn't do it. But it was still hard tonight to see someone else counting the reps for her, and hearing M say, "If you aren't sure what to do, just watch _____" and not have her say my name.

I guess I have two choices. I can turn tail and run, or I can suck it up and keep going. I don't especially like feeling sorry for myself, so I think I'm going to just nip this pity party in the bud. There is nothing saying that I couldn't get my certification and teach for her sometime down the road. But before I can do that, I need to focus on getting back to healthy.

I did see a lot of familiar faces tonight, which was great, but we were in a brand-new studio (M expanded over the summer), and there were a lot more new faces than familiar ones. Why is it that life goes on, even when we stay put? Shouldn't the world stop as well?