Curse of The Kettlebell

An object with the definition of cast-iron or cast-steel weight should potentially be illegal as a workout tool.  Or maybe it should require a license for use.  In order to obtain one you have to prove yourself tolerant of the hurt it inflicts.  Are you worthy?  Can you withstand the beating? I was introduced to the kettlebell a couple years ago by a trainer I sincerely admire and aspire to be like.  A strong female persona defying all the odds of aging and putting 

20-year-olds to shame when it comes to strength and activity level.  A kettlebell workout is a form of exercise that is not meant for the casual Sunday stroller, but more for the person who is looking to come close to death during their 45 minute session.  

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In my post-marathon mourning I retreated to my familiar place at the gym with my favorite trainer.  I wore a self made sign on my shirt that said: 

“Disclaimer, I haven’t done S#@! since I don’t know when”.  

If you show your face in a kettlebell class you better not come with a matching outfit, a full face of makeup, or a cheery fucking attitude.  You better come ready to hurt, cry, grimace, and possibly vomit.  It is not a class for sissies.  Faint of heart need not apply.  Sure I just ran a marathon!  But in the eyes of the kettlebell workout I may as well have been sitting on the couch for 6 months.  26.2 miles of running, please…SO WHAT!!!  Having full respect for the training the way I have respect for mother nature being in control of everything good and bad in the world, I didn’t want anyone to judge me when I started gasping for air.  At the same point, it’s always nice when you have someone in the class that makes everyone else look AMAZING!!!  I could handle that role…

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In true Missy style, fake it till you make it as the saying goes.  Whether I’m 14 or 46 I won’t admit I’m dying, and worried for my capabilities to WALK the following day!  I will show up and show out like I’m a paid professional.  If the pain that accompanied rolling over in bed last night wasn’t enough to remind me I wasn’t the female version of Rocky Balboa during yesterday’s workout…the fact that I couldn’t balance on one leg while putting on my jeans this morning surely did.  Did you know there is a very specific point on your ass that is responsible for allowing you to balance on one leg while putting on the other leg’s pant leg?  As if I was trying to balance the weight of my entire body on the tip of a pencil. Needless to say I tried that ONCE!  And thankfully I was close to my bed when it happened! 

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So in my days following the curse of the kettlebellI WILL be one of those annoying people taking the elevator one floor up with onlookers sighing as if why can’t I walk up one flight of stairs.  I WILL be one of those people that drops their napkin and leaves it on the ground, not because I don’t care about the environment, but because if I bend down to get it I may not be able to get back up.  And I WILL take the chance of becoming dehydrated by limiting my water bottle refills because the act of sitting down on a toilet more than two times will bring me to a spiritual crossing (not a good one)!  


Image result for kettlebellBut most of all, I WILL be the first one there again for class Monday morning because there’s no better feeling of “BAD-ASS” than when you toss around some cast iron!!!

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