As promised, I went back to the gym — And met the devil in plastic

A short while back, I mentioned something about needing to go to the gym so I could continue to indulge in comfort foods. And thus began my journey down the rabbit hole of having a personal trainer.

Brian and I have had a gym membership for over a year. But we’ve gone maybe 5 times. Maybe.

I needed some serious motivation to get back to the gym and I was SERIOUSLY missing the awesome group training sessions I had when I went to this amazing gym back in Aurora (which is much too far away to maintain a membership). Also Brian is determined to keep up with this gym thing (look at us becoming gym rats!) going…so he convinced me that the trainer was the way to go.

OK. Fine.

So, on Day 1: The Assessment, this chick (the trainer) turns out to be super nice (I mean, despite the making me sweat thing) and an English major to boot. Good choice, Gym Manager Guy. Good choice.

She worked me a little hard to see my level of strength, but nothing terrible. Except for the Godawful Bosu.

Bosu Balance Ball

The Bosu Balance Ball*: The Devil in Plastic.

I had informed Trainer about my bad knee, ankles, and wrists…basically that I can’t do a whole lot of anything on them. Or risk serious pain. Push-ups? Planks? No thank you.

So she decides that it’s a good idea to put me on this half ball thing, which only makes shit harder…

Resting my elbows on the Devil in Plastic, she had me hold a plank position (that means a push-up position with a flat back) for…AS LONG AS I COULD.

Which turned out to be 15 whole seconds.

She let me rest. And then she made me DO IT AGAIN.

This time, though, she told me to go to my happy place. And I started smiling. And thinking. And internally giggling. And I said to her,

“If I told you I was thinking about cheese, would that be wrong?”

Her response?

“Whatever gets you through.”

30 seconds later, she told me I could rest. Cheese. Doubled. My. Stamina.

A few days later, she brought out that dreaded thing again. And I was ready for it.

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Fuck. I can’t focus. I can’t think of other cheeses.

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Blue!

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Why can’t I think of other cheeses?!

Why is this so hard!

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

And rest.

I may not have been able to divert my attention back to cheese but I did 3 reps of 30 seconds each, repeating my mantra inside my head. And if you’re going to have a mantra, it should be things you love right?

Never underestimate the power of cheese.

Do you work out? Do you want to work out? Do you have a gym membership you don’t use?

How do you get through tough workouts?  What’s your secret?

*Some links lead to Amazon and may then lead to Amazon sending a tiny contribution to my cheese budget. I thank you in advance.

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