For the last couple of weeks I have paid a personal trainer to beat me up for a full 60 minutes. Why do we pay someone to torture us?...And a better question is why do I like it? Maybe I just have this strange fondness of pushing my body until it protests and won't let me lunge anymore or until it revolts at the site of the precor machine. I have been working out at a smaller gym and this morning I was very glad of that fact because it was just me and my trainer this morning (I was doing this one exercise and I literally caught the 8lb medicine ball in the face instead of my hands as planned)......facts to know about me while working out:
- my session is the morning so therefore brushing my teeth and washing my face is about all that happens between bed and the bench press. that's right people, I don't brush my hair and I sleep in most of my gym gear so I can just roll out of bed and rock it.
- i am a sweating machine. i can walk past a treadmill and start to sweat......i prefer to just say that i have good ventilation. so warning if you ever run into me in the gym...skip the high fives or hugs.....i will have already started sweating out toxins.
- my workout apparel never matches and mostly likely never will......you will always catch me in sweat pants that are two sizes two big, made for guys, and tank tops that your grandfather probably wore under his dress shirts.
- i will never be accused of being "cute" at the gym......if there is one place where make-up should not be allowed it is the gym. What is with the girls that actually put on make up to go work out? And what is even more puzzling is the girls that still have that perfect face of make up on after they have done 50 minutes of cardio!
- last but not least........i don't like to talk while working out. i can hardly breath as is.....you think talking to me is going to help? It's like going to the dentist and having him talk to you while his hands are in your mouth....I can't talk. I don't have enough breath to just breathe normally let alone form words and push them out of my mouth. So to those of you who can run on the treadmill at top speeds for five miles all the while carrying on a great conversation with you neighbor....awesome, but if that neighbor is me.....please just wave and smile, no talking.
My weekly torture sessions are over for this week, but next Tuesday will come soon. Maybe instead of talking I could just start grunting...like some of the guys do while lifting the "heavy" weight.
dance on...just make sure to give me my space.
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