I didn't think that yoga was supposed to hurt you

Finally started the job, and with the job came The Gym. Yes, it deserves to be all in capitals because, over the last several days, it has earned my respect for delivering me in the form of a quivering mess to my front door at the end of the evening. After sitting in a chair all day listening to the Old Biddy and The Wierd Anal One, cycling my ass off whilst some one yells at me over the music to "Lean into it! Up a quarter turn!" is obviously, exactly what I need.

I attempted spinning today - something that should more appropriately be described as really fit women with asses you could bounce quarters off of barely breaking a sweat while I fell off my bike halfway through hyperventaliting. I lasted all of 15 minutes, which the trainer in charge of the class was apparently impressed with, since I hadn't done it before. After spending about 20 minutes sitting with my head between my legs in the women's locker room as my stomach debated whether or not it wanted to be empty or not, I wobbled myself back into the class room where a wonderful woman was putting on relaxing music and dimming the lights. The next hour could be summed up either as 'The many amusing ways I can fall over in front of people' or 'Fuck me, I didn't realize that men could put their legs behind their heads.' So, all in all, heaps of fun. I'm going to attempt to walk to my kitchen now, but if I'm not back in half an hour we may have to call the paramedics.