The Mean Reds of Working Out

I'm in them. For sure. The Mean Reds. For those of you not familiar with the phrase, it's not all the dirty/disgusting things running through your head. It's a Breakfast at Tiffany's reference. The mean reds are worse than the blues.

I went to my Monday morning Zumba class, like I've been doing for a few weeks now (which in and of itself is an achievement for me). I couldn't keep up, which is normal. I looked like the dumb white girl who can't dance, which is normal. But for some reason today it got to me. The last five minutes of class it was all I could do not to burst into tears. I don't know if the instructor sensed it or was just in a silly mood, but she broke out into The Sprinkler during our cool down. Laughing, I made it through the end of class.

However, as I was walking out of the gym this giant weight of discouragement settled over me. This is why I quit. I look at the road ahead. Very seldom do I take a look behind me. But even the road behind isn't so great when I stop and think about it.

I got in the car just sat there for a minute thinking about who to call and ask what to do next. I'm always starving, and thought maybe a protein shake/smoothie/something would be a better idea than grabbing an egg mcmuffin from the drive thru. But what do I know? Then I realized I'd left my phone at home and was on my own. I turned the radio on and the first lyrics I heard were, "And so I tell myself that I'll be strong..." Ellie Goulding. Good song. It's a popular one that's always on, so I didn't think anything of it.

There's a smoothie joint that's just down the shopping center from the gym, so I scooted on down. I walked in, told the counter boy that I didn't know anything about any of this and that he was going to have to talk to me like a kindergartener. Yep. I was THAT cliche today. The girl that walks into a department store and goes, "I need some clothes." "What kind?" "Oh, I don't know. Whatever you think." Congratulations, Shanna on becoming the consumer you hate.

Feeling even lower than before I got back in the car and turned the radio on again. "Fighter." The new one, not the old Christina Aguilera version. Again, a popular song about to get overplayed, but poignant to my situation. Okay, now You have my attention. The next song was an older one in the same vein. I don't know what you believe, frankly I don't care, but I believe in God. I talk to Him all the time. He talks back...through the radio. He knows His child, and that's about the only way I listen. So it would seem that even He is rooting for me to suck it up and keep going.

Perseverance. That doesn't look like the right spelling even though there aren't any wiggly red lines under it, oh well. That is my goal for the week. Even though I feel like the lowest of the low right now.