I'm just gonna say it.... I HATE the gym. I have always loathed it. IT'S GROSS! For one, it smells like sweat and stinky socks, AND.... EW. I'm also not super excited about the prospect of sitting in someone else's sweat to do a set of exercises. Don't even get me started on the douchebags who grunt and groan the entire time they are lifting and then ceremoniously drop their weights to the floor and strut like they just delivered the most epic gift ever to you on a silver platter held by Adam Levine grinning and half naked. PUHHHH-LEASE!
So where does that leave me if I want to get fit? I do, after all, have 13.1 miles to run in about 10 weeks. There are plenty of workouts I'd love to try or commit to, but they all have reasons for which I cannot. Some don't have a location within decent driving distance, some don't have a class schedule that fits with my schedule and some are just too dang pricey. On my wish list is to be able to afford a personal trainer, even just once a week (I even have one selected), but let's face it, hell might freeze over before that is an option.
Lately, I look at myself in the mirror and cringe. Where is that sassy, lively girl who used to stare back and smile deviously as she said, pointing to the mirror, "THIS just shouldn't be allowed". (YES, I really used to do that, true story.) Maybe she's lost back there somewhere between pregnancy and postpartum depression? I do hope that I find her soon, because the crazy bitch who stares back at me right now has got to go!
My goal was to be 40 and fabulous, not 40 and fat. Maybe I need to set a new goal, 41-derful?
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