Monday, January 11, 2010

The Break Up

So, the shred and I are currently seeing other people at the moment. I haven't entirely given up on it, but I will admit that by Sunday morning, I was incredibly bored with the frightening Ms. Michaels telling me to keep going even though I wanted to quit. During a switch in equipment, I sat for more than the minute she allows and I almost didn't get up again.

Sunday morning came 'round and I was snuggled warm and happy in my bed, watching "Supernatural" and calculating what exactly I could eat (or, how little I could eat?) so that I'd be justified in not doing the workout. And at that precise moment, my stepmom asked me if I wanted to go to the gym with her. At first, I replied with a falsely hoarse "No." I climbed back into bed and resumed watching the Winchester Brothers' chronicles. But something inside me (perhaps my conscience? Or the remnants of that delicious slice of pepperoni pizza I happily devoured earlier in the week?) told me that I really needed to workout. And so I trundled off to the gym, equipped with gossip rags and a kickass Cardio playlist to get me through.

The workout? Oh, just 60 minutes on an elliptical machine. Which, let me tell you, is nowhere near as easy as you think it is. Sixty minutes of grinding repition marked only by the pops and cracks of my entirely woefully unexercised joints, with background music provided by Lady GaGa. Around the 30 minute mark, I was sure I was going to pass out. I selected "Bad Romance" and pushed on. It was not fun, and it was definitely the first time I've sweated in, well, a really long time. But when I hit 60 minutes, looked at the calorie count and the distance I'd "traveled", I was more than pleased with myself. That was until I got off the ellipticals and my legs were so Jell-O like that I nearly fell, Bridget Jones-style.

In the end, the workout was well worth it. I went back today, still slightly sore from yesterday's workout, but secure in the knowledge that though my muscles seemed to be staging a not-so velvet revolution, they'd be thanking me in short order.

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