Reality check

I had this idea.
A bucket list.
30 by 30?
Seems like a fun idea to me!

Day 1.
Made great choices all day.
No soda, healthy salad for dinner.
Kickboxing class for the first time.
Ever.
I was athletic.
How hard can it be?

Tour begins.
People stroll in.
Shoes come off.
We patiently wait for the advanced class to end.
I nervously look around to see who else is ready to look like a fool.
Oh good, I'm not alone.

Instructor: Ok let's warm up.
My head: Perfect, I could use a little stretch...
Instructor: Start running around the gym.
My head: EXCUSE ME? YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT?!?!?
Do you know how long it's been since this ass moved for anything more than another handful of chips?
Crap.
What have I gotten myself into?

Side steps.
Weaving in and out of the bags.
Trying not to play bumper bellies as we dodge each other.
Narrowly avoiding disaster.
Leg lifts.
1 armed side pushups.
This is just the warm up?
Crap.
I'm gonna die.

JRae, meet bag.
Bag, meet JRae.
Sparring commences.
Instructor: You have nice form.
You're not exactly petite, am I right?
Me: I most certainly am not!
Instructor: Well you don't carry yourself like a bigger person.
Me: Um. Thanks.
I think?

Grabbed a spot in the back.
Ledge keeps me upright at times.
Haven't relied upon something that much since I was in the wheelchair.
Wheelchair.
How could I forget?
That's why I'm doing this.

Reality check.
This is gonna suck.
I'm going to hurt.
I let myself get to this point.
Question is: how do I get myself out?

1 jab at a time.
1 less soda.
1 healthy choice at a time.
1 less sweet treat.
1 step at a time.

Reality check.
Bob.
Gulp.
This was supposed to be a walk in the park compared to The Ranch.
2 minutes in and I am sweating like a cold drink on a hot summer day.
What am I getting myself into?

Don't know...but I sure want to find out.

Bring.
It.
On.