Einstein

I have finally proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that I come by my blonde hair semi-honestly.

I went to a conference in Hilton Head over the weekend to get some continuing ed for my personal trainer certification. I'd taken things really easy last week to make sure I was good & recovered from the flu since I knew some of the classes would be moderately challenging. For those of you who know me, you can imagine what restraint it took for me to do little more than walk my dog last week after lying on the sofa mainlining prescription flu drugs for a week and a half before that. My strategy seems sensible enough, don't you think? Here's where the blonde hair comes into play.

Each class at the conference is 1-1/2 to 2 hours long. My first one was called Extreme Sports Training for Youths & Teens. Here's the description:

"We'll put your fitness level to the test in this grueling but fun workout. This challenging program emphasizes muscular strength, speed, power and agility. This extreme conditioning workout is designed for all levels of youth with emphasis on skaters, hockey players and recreational athletes who want to increase overall fitness. This class format incorporates intervals, high repetitions, speed bursts, and power drills."

Now, you would think that since I registered for this class based on the description, I'd realize that it wouldn't exactly be the best way to ease back into exercising after the flu. You’d think that because you THINK. I, on the other hand, obviously don't. So instead of explaining my situation to the instructor, humbly sitting on the floor out of the way and taking notes for this one, I jumped right in and competed with the best of them. Then I proceeded to do the following:

• Ballet Body Sculpt - ever held your arms out in second position for an hour and a half straight? No??? Then girl, you haven't lived!
• Power & Grace With the Ball - Pilates & Yoga on a stability ball. Sound nice? Idiot.
• Sports Specific Pilates - omiGOD!!!

Let's just say that I earned every single CE credit.

While stifling a scream as tears ran down my cheeks during an ultimately doomed attempt at suspending my butt over a pathogen-encrusted toilet seat in a gas station restroom on the way home, a thought occurred to me. Perhaps it's time that I stopped checking my voicemail to see if MENSA has called. Somehow, I don't think it's gonna happen.