Torture

So I’m pretty sure that I signed up for some new kind of torture instead of Code Pink Boot Camp.

I’m talking the kind of torture that includes your heart pounding out of your chest, needing an oxygen tank to breathe, and not being able to sit on the toilet the next day.

I’m also pretty sure that everyone else in my class hates me, because while I trudge myself up the hill at barely a walking pace, they have to run up and down on repeat until i make it to the top. I would hate me.

But when I feel defeated and pack up my stuff to leave after one of these very embarrassing moments (where I was lapped about, um, 5 times), I am reminded that everyone has to start somewhere. So I unpack, suck it up, and hold my chin up high, because finishing last is better than quitting.

At least in my book.