Wednesday, April 9, 2008

I love/love my trainer.

I dragged my slightly lumpier behind into the gym today after a month of avoiding any type of contact, even eye contact, with exercise machines. I'm one of those people who hate working out. Every workout, every run is an arduous task that I have to mentally prepare for. I have no idea what it means when people say, "I love working out!" And I have no idea what it means to "miss" the gym.

Having a trainer is critical to getting me into the gym. A trainer elicits the perfect mixture of social guilt and financial obligation to force this Chinese daughter into a workout. I love my trainer. We get along really well and she really thinks about the exercises that actually challenge me. However, after nearly a month of zero exercise, I thought she would make me throw up or pass out. (The former occurred on a day when I neglected to eat a proper meal before the workout.)

I'm happy to report that I made it through the 50 minutes with little issue. Now that I no longer have to squeeze myself into the white dress, I'm not really sure I have the motivation to continue on. There's really no more reason to kill myself. Twice a week.

4 comments:

WeezerMonkey said...

I need motivation.
I have none.

moderntype said...

i meet with mine 5 times a week.
somedays i want to jump off a bridge.

dapotato said...

i was all motivated for all of 3.5 weeks. i have since slacked. before that, i slacked for years. sigh.

Winnie said...

I don't even bother trying . . .