It's a Friday night, my husband's away, I'm not in a particularly good mood, and I'd like to finish two things I started last night: True Grit, and a bottle of wine.
But I need to jump around instead. And get to bed early, so I can jump around in the morning.
The life of a fitness instructor: no one warned me. The body must be ready, as must the mind. The body, however, requires more discipline, in my opinion. You can wing the mental stuff, but the physical tests your humility. You thought you were Wonder Woman, you're not Wonder Woman. And here's the proof.
As for jumping tonight, I need to test out some of my ideas before I insist on them tomorrow. My class is a lovely bunch, very appreciative of any and all ass-kickings, and I must deliver. This is not the kind of class I can instruct from afar--I'm doing and demonstrating through most of it. Jumping jacks. Taking some guy's hard punches into the mitts and demanding he hit harder.
Holding off on the wine and movie is worth it--I discipline myself in order to push others past their limits, to show them that they can do what they thought they couldn't.