While I was on my way to Dairy Queen (of course) on Friday night, I got a call from Misiu, my friend who has been trying to double as my personal trainer for a couple of years now. Almost two weeks ago, I had promised in my usual offhand manner to join him at the gym for a workout since I had been avoiding the gym for a good five months. I guess he remembered my halfhearted promise and was calling me on it. I asked him when he was planning on going to the gym, hoping it would be some unrealistic hour like “before 9am” so I could point out the impossibility of me joining him, but sadly he asked me to meet him at 11:30.

The last time I did a leg workout with Misiu was over a year ago, so needless to say, my legs had been spoiled and were not used to this. Whenever I go to the gym with Misiu, I’m like one of those Biggest Loser contestants, huffing and puffing and moaning and groaning as I struggle to give him “one more” or keep going for “five more seconds” (which never seem to come soon enough). He really is a fabulous trainer (so good at showing me how to use the machines and motivating me to keep going and sadly he does a good job of keeping track of how many reps I do so I don’t lie and say I’ve done the required amount). I should be using the heck out of him instead of moaning that he’s trying to help me get into shape. I worked hard and when I left the gym I felt sore but not too uncomfortable, so I immediately felt bad that I hadn’t pushed myself to near death.

Until I woke up this morning.

I am walking bowlegged and climbing the stairs is torture. My back aches and every step I take reminds me that I might want to start hitting the gym more regularly than every few months.

Ow.

Filed under: Health by jummy