Knowing that you have a 100 burpee day on the horizon is kind of nerve wracking.

When I saw that I was going to be doing so many reps of this exercise that I pretty much hate I immediately knew that it needed to be a mind over matter type of situation. I had done a circuit that included a total of sixty burpees just a few days prior and if I had let my sore body tell me what I could and could not do I am almost positive that 100 burpees would be on the list of the latter. Let me tell you, burpees tear me a new one.

What sucks most about this particular exercise is how sloppy I feel doing them. If I was a pro I would be able to pop down, hit the floor, glide back up, and add a perfect little clap up top to cap each one off. Instead I am not a pro. I am a lady that is new to doing burpees and consequently  I sort of feel like a porpoise flopping around on dry land, wondering where the fuck all my air went as I (again and again and again) smack my stomach to the floor and try not to put the move so much into my back that it is prohibits me from doing any more.

My body begins to say “hellllll no” within four or five burpees so having 95 more to do after this point is a huge exercise in will. I am not generally one to spend a lot of time basking in self love, in fact being kind to myself is really something that I struggle with. In order to get myself through the process of a lot of these work outs I have had to take a crash course in talking nicely and being encouraging as if I were cheering on someone else. By burpee number 30 I was kind of wrecked. I wanted to puke, my heart was jackhammering, I was covered in sweat and sawdust, and I had visible bruises on both knees. I really (REALLY) wanted to sit the rest out and instead I began talking out loud to myself. Had any of my housemates had an ear to the basement door they almost certainly would have heard “You are doing it, you totally got this. Only one more set of ten and you can rest. You are stronger then 100 burpees”. I had to believe what I was saying too, because in order for quitting to not be an option, I had to feel like there was a chance in hell I would finish. Without some sort of confidence in my ability I wouldn’t have kept trying.

So, I did it and I feel okay. I am proud of myself for committing to something unfamiliar to me. With these exercises I am dedicating myself in a multitude of ways. I am showing up every day to do the workouts set out before me, despite them being uncomfortable and despite me being not as good at them as I am with other sorts of exercise.

I am committing to keeping the time spent exercising short and hard and letting the extra time I have be space for other activities in my life. As hard as it is to get through 100 burpees, it is even harder to let myself believe that I don’t need to do more in order to be spending a prescribed amount of time working out. I am unlearning many many years of rules and regulations I had set out for myself as a direct result of struggling with an eating disorder. I am letting myself have new goals. Its physically wracking and its emotionally wracking too. But hey, I did it. Awesome.

and for those who don’t know what a burpee is, here is a video. This guy is like a fucking ballerina of physical fitness!

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