Sweating with Friends

Last night I dreamt that I was back in Prague, and like most dreams do, I was switching between two places; the beer garden and the Crossfit Committed gym. I was throwing back beers as expertly as I was throwing up my hang cleans, and in each case, I felt incredibly happy. Talk about two sides of my personality...
   Over the past few weeks I have been doing my darndest to keep up with what was once an intense and rigorous fitness regime. I've gone to classes, done tapes, I've even written my own workouts and kept track of my times in a Jurassic Park notebook I brought from across the pond. But there is just something missing.  Perhaps it's the fact that I don't have all my fellow Crossfitters to compare muscles with after class, or anyone to split protein shakes with, but I really think the thing I'm battling most is that daily, scheduled, friend filled routine.
   So when our family friend Lisa asked if I wanted to try a TRX class last week, I readily said yes. Not only was I hoping to fill that missing link, but I thought maybe the TRX would effectively turn me into a TREX- after all, why would the names be so similar? But while I had fun and Lisa was super cool as always, the workout just wasn't for me. All those straps made me nervous, and I am just not coordinated enough to loop my foot through a low hanging handle and then lunge forward while keeping up some sort of tempo. Not to mention the fact that at the end of the hour, I was barely sweating---I've found that I like my workouts to leave me gasping for breath on the floor, not jogging to the car to burn a couple extra calories.
   But the instructor said that the toughest course she teaches is the TRX/Bootcamp combo class, so a couple days later I dragged my friend Molly along, again hoping for a duo sense of camaraderie and badassedness. First things first, the class was PACKED, and I worried she'd ask us newbies to hit the high road and bootcamp our way home. Instead, she split us into 3 groups where we each did certain movements either on the TRX or floor for 45 seconds a piece. And guess what? By the end, I was sweating like a stuck pig! We did pushups, lunges, TRX pistols (much nicer than the xfit killer ones) squat thrusts (which I still can't do no matter how old I am) and, much to my dismay, wall balls. But you know, when Molly and I climbed into the car afterward that was the first thing we talked about. And I felt for a second that mutual understanding of suffering and awfulness, combined with raging endorphins and an overall feeling of accomplishment.
   Unfortunately, there's no way that anybody can workout with me every day of the week, so while I can look forward to a couple days of ass kicking with a friend, it's going to be up to me to fill that void myself at home. And if I can raid my fridge for Rocky Road at 11:30 by myself, why can't I burn it off the same way?