So, I didn't quit boot camp.
My wife said, "If you don't want to go, that's fine. I'm still going to go. And sooner or later I'm going to need you to get over your fear."
I thought about that. I thought about the fact that I didn't want to quit something just 2-1/2 weeks after my surgery. I don't want to start a pattern of excuses and quitting. I lived the first 30 years of my life as a quitter. I've quit almost everything I've ever started. I don't want to be a quitter anymore.
So I took my ass to boot camp again this morning. And I felt like I was going to die the whole time. I walked when a lot of people were running. I almost racked myself doing bear crawls (seriously, I almost fell on my face. I was envisioning needing some extensive dental work.). I stepped up when other people jumped.
But you know what? I did it. And it didn't kill me.
Only 8 more classes to go. (The noise my brain is making thinking about that is, "OHGODOHGODOHGODOHGOD.")
I also took my first Zumba class last night. I like Zumba - it was a sweaty mess of a workout with the cutest 18-year-old boy leading the class. He was wearing a hat and his shoes matched his belt. I just wanted to hug him, but again, I was sweaty. I also liked Zumba because the skinny lady in front of me couldn't figure out a single move. Skinny people can be uncoordinated, too! Thank you, skinny lady.