Just another day in paradise.

Last night was the first night we walked past the room where they hold the 101 boot camp class and intentionally headed for the room where they teach the regular class.  A week ago one of our trainers told us we were ready to move up, but regular class seemed so much more intimidating.  For one, those people actually look fit, whereas the 101 class is filled with people like us - puffy in the middle, new to exercise, each of us secretly hoping we'll lose weight without having to work too hard because, dammit, we showed up to class and that should really count for something.  (Maybe that last part is just me.)  I won't lie, I was also intimidated by the fact that they make the regular class run up this big-ass grassy knoll on the side of the building, and that shit is not fun.

But the 101 class isn't challenging enough anymore- 20 seconds of exercise, then 20 seconds of rest - I need more than that.  So we followed the fit people to the glass room, and there, laid out before us, was a circuit of shit we've never seen or done before.  Turns out, it was the trainer's last class, and he wanted to torture us have us work out with his favorite exercises.  He's graduated from college and is moving off into the world (Alabama), and this was his last hurrah.  I'm so glad we showed up for this.  (/sarcasm)  Did I mention this guy was a college-level swimmer and a professional trainer?  Fuck me.  Things like "rope slam" and "super jacks" and "burpee jacks"  (whomever invented burpees is an asshole).  As the trainer described each station, Melinda glared at me.  "It's not too late to go to the other class, you know," she said.  "Girl, we got this," I replied, lying through my teeth.

We did have it, though.  It was hard as hell and my shirt and bra were soaked through with sweat when we were finished, but we totally had that workout.  One minute on, twenty seconds of rest, then switch - much more challenging.  I left feeling like jello, all rubbery and weak and flushed and feeling like the fucking champion of the world because did I mention burpee jacks? 

I got home and Jimi and I spent some quality time hanging out on the front porch, talking about work and working out and trying to figure out which of the 20 things going on this weekend we're going to be able to attend.  I made smoothies and cereal for dinner. 

and then my ex-husband sent me a friend request on facebook. 

My heartbeat quickened, but in an "oh shit I've been caught and I'm going to be in trouble" sort of way, which makes no sense at all.  I tried to figure out why I was reacting the way I was, but I couldn't find an explanation for why my heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest, and I couldn't believe Jimi couldn't hear it.  My hands started to shake as I clicked on his profile and gave it a scan.  Yep, same guy.  I'll be damned.  I accepted his friend request, but I won't lie and pretend I didn't go to my own page first, to get a gander at what he'll see, what impression he'll get, what picture my facebook page paints of my life.  Fortunately, I'm pretty awesome, so I was all "sure, come on in, check it out, see what I've been up to for the last 6 years".  (You can say all that by accepting a friend request, did ya know?)  I mean, if I'd been so inclined and sent the request instead, I'd hope he'd give me the courtesy, I guess.  I'm just surprised, caught off guard - I sort of felt, for a moment, as if something bad was intruding on something good - past onto present, sad onto happy. 

It's just that I don't think about that life much anymore these days.  There were good times, sure, but I was mostly sad and drunk and alone during our marriage, and he sort of threw me away like I was yesterday's trash rather than the woman he'd chosen as his wife.  Typing that, I don't need to delve any further into this to figure out why I reacted the way I did last night.  Isn't that enough of a reason? 

I hugged Jimi tight before I went to bed - I thanked him for loving me, and for making this life with me.  I'm so very grateful for him.