Burpees

Holy Hell...do I ever hate Burpees.

What are Burpees, you ask? You don't want to know...but I'm going to tell you anyway.

A Burpee, my friends, is this:



And C. makes me do them. Twenty at a time. I am nowhere near as fast as this guy, and I've never had to do the little jump at the end...but the rest is exactly what I do. Squat, kick the legs back, jump the feet back forward and then stand all the way up.

They kill. My calves, after about four of them, are weeping, begging for mercy.

Today, C. got that half-apologetic, half-sadistic smile on her face and said, "And now..."

"Oh, God. Burpees?" I gasped between taking lungfulls of sweet air after my last exercise.

"Uh-huh!"

"Oh, goodie."

But I did them. Twenty reps. Two sets (that is, yes, forty total Burpees in a one-hour period). Everything burned. I was hating life and wondering if I could fein illness or injury. But I persevered, and finished the exercise, dripping sweat and nearly crying with relief.

I might hate them, but I'll keep doing them, because they are a great combination of cardio (the level change is a big thing for keeping the heart rate up) and strength training. And they are helping me chisel my arms from fat old chicken wings to sleek, muscled specimens.

Who knows, maybe one day I'll even be like that dude in the video.