Back To the Gym: Hell Week

I hate running.  I have never, not one day in my existence, thought "oh hey...I'm bored...I think I'll go run!!!" Despite this...it was just something you had to do to stay in shape.  And this is where my story begins. 

THIS IS WORSE THAN A GHOST STORY.

Once upon a time, many many moons ago, I was in great shape. We all were. For those of you who grew up with me in Summerville, SC...you know what I'm talking about.  For those of you who didn't, let me explain.  Summerville is pretty much a breeding ground for athletes.  If you were an athlete, you were working out 2-3 times a day, running stadium stairs in blistering heat everyday of summer, doing sprints with 20 pound tires on your back...the works.  We were all used to it, and if you happened to be especially lucky and be one of our hometown football stars... you were treated like a god.

A TYPICAL LUNCH GREETING FOR OUR STARTING QUARTERBACK

Anywho... back to the story.  So the years of high school passed and we get to college to begin our adult social careers.  Now college was a bit of a strange time for me because I discovered that most of the women walking around campus were absolutely body OBSESSED.  I had never seen anything like it.  It was batshit crazy. Girls didn't work out for 3 hours a day to win games anymore, they worked out for three hours a day because they ate a quarter of a biscuit at breakfast....2 days ago.  

 "PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.  I HAD A SALTINE EARLIER" 

Body issues, thankfully, have never been super high on the list of insecurities for me.  Now, if I am going to sit here and tell you there aren't things I would love to magically change about myself, I would be lying.  I mean, EVERYONE has their grievances.   Would I love to wake up with a six pack?  Duh.  Am I going to never enjoy this to attain it?

NOPE.  NOT IMPORTANT ENOUGH.  

All in all, you'll never see me avoid getting in the water because I'm having a "fat day".  That is so lame.  I'm here to shake my tail feather and be on the lake with the people I love and have a cocktail, not try out for America's Next Top Model.

COULD SOMEONE GET THIS FATASS A COVER UP PLEASE? GEEZ. 

So college passed, we started real jobs, and started all getting a little lazier than we used to be. Which brings us to the present week.  

For those of you who know me, you know I am passionate about several things (in no particular order) 

The people I love 

Michael Jackson songs 

Kids

Movies

Karaoke

My piano 

Checkers (the drive thru, NOT the board game)

Vince Vaughn

Pasta 

The ocean

Cocktails

Gamecocks

Painting

Tropical weather 

Music 

My pug

Medieval Times 

...to name a few.  

Notice that nowhere on that list was running, jogging, sprinting, or anything of the like. 

So when I was driving back from a movie the other night and passed Gold's Gym for the millionth time, I had to suck it up.  I knew there was no excuse anymore to not be a member of a gym that is less than 2 blocks from my house.  Soooooo.... I pulled in.  

WHAT GOLD'S LOOKS LIKE WHEN YOU HAVEN'T CONSISTENTLY WORKED OUT IN FIVE YEARS. (WELL....MAYBE SIX) 

So I get there, thinking "hey I'll join, go a couple times a week (or year)... and call it a day."  As I'm on my tour of the gym (my old gym was New Life so I had never been in a Gold's) divine intervention happened.  

HO. LY. CRAP. 

This became the start of a beautiful love story with the gym....and my road to redemption after years of fun laziness. 

DAY ONE

It's 5:00 AM, and my ass is out of bed and ready to go.  Naturally, I look beautiful at five in the morning.

 "HEYYYY SEXY"

I'm exhausted, because I never sleep.  I head to the gym (drive, of course, let's not get too out of control on the first day and walk) and get inside.  It's nearly empty.  I enjoy this because it will give me a chance to explore the place without looking like a total creeper.


I walk into the Cardio Cinema and witness what may as well be the only saving grace in my road to redemption.... Trickery.

 "HA HA, YOU DUMBASS!!! YOU WON'T EVEN KNOW YOU ARE WORKING OUT!" -MY BRAIN

This is the greatest combination of things I've ever seen.  Fact: If you want to get me to do anything, better involve either a movie or cocktails.  Since drinking at the gym would sort of defeat the purpose of going, movies are the next best thing.  A movie workout room!!! BRILLIANT!!!

I hop on the machine.  Of course, I'm overzealous and not paying attention because a movie is on, so an hour and a half later, the movie is over and my workout is done.  I'm sweating my ass off, but it wasn't so bad.

     I AM GOING TO LOOK LIKE THIS BEFORE THE WEEKEND IS OVER. 




DAY TWO, 5:00 AM

I can barely move.  My legs feel like concrete from me thinking I was some kind of Olympian while watching Flags of Our Fathers on the big screen the day before. 
I head to the kitchen, swallow some aspirin like I'm Anna Nicole Smith, and debate finding a junkie and stealing morphine from him to ease the pain.  This must be what rigamortis feels like. 

Back to the gym. 

5:30 AM- Elliptical machines

I am sweating like a whore in church and somehow end up next to a man who feels the need to grunt every 30 seconds.  I'm having trouble holding it together and not smacking the hell out of him. 

"EXCUSE ME SIR.  SHUT. THE. F&CK. UP." 

There is no need for all that gym drama.  Especially when I am tired, incapable of fully extending my legs, and trying to find something decent to watch on the tv in front of me.  This is not the time to grunt sir. Shut it.

DAY TWO: 5:30 PM

I get bored at the house.  Time for a movie at the gym. 

Workout number two of the day goes better than I expected.  I think maybe at this point my muscles have just given up hope of recovering.  I feel good.  Hit the hydromassage afterwards.  Totally dig that. 

DAY THREE 5:30 AM

Lord help me.  I feel less like this...

and more like this....

DAY THREE 5:30 PM

I run into my sister in law.  She wants me to get on board with her trainer and do a session with her to "keep each other motivated"  I agree, of course before investigating.  Soooooo naturally, the day with the trailer is LEG DAY.

DEAR. GOD. NO.

5:45 PM

3 squats in, I am debating hitting the trainer over the head with the weight I'm holding and crawling out of the gym.  This was a terrible idea.  My sister in law still seems motivated.  Good for her.  She didn't do an hour and a half on the elliptical machine right before this session.  No, I am the only dumbass who did that. 

5:50 PM

Time for ab work.

THE FUN NEVER ENDS. 

I am working out muscles I forgot I had.  My sister is law is hurting too so in some sick way that makes me feel better because she's in much better shape than I am.  Clearly, this trainer thinks we are more than mere mortals.  Please let this end.

It ends. 

9:30 PM

I hop (crawl) into the bath with some hope of relaxing muscles that are as stiff as a week old corpse.  No relief.

DAY FOUR 6:00 AM

The bottom of my feet feel like I have been walking across lava for shits and giggles.  I am not amused. I head to the gym, praying I won't land next to the "excessive grunter" again.  I don't, thank the Lord. 

I work out in peace, alone with the silent screams my muscles make.  At least a good movie is on. 

OK, MAYBE NOT "GOOD" MOVIE.

DAY FIVE: Current Time

My body feels like jello, but it's not as bad as the previous day.  My body has accepted it's fate.  As long as there are movies playing at Gold's, my ass is going to be there.  If I happen to get a better body out of the deal, so be it. 

I guess I need to really focus and give up what is preventing me from getting the six pack I am destined to have before the end of the month. 

NO WAY.

Looks like the six pack will remain a distant dream, because the wine isn't going anywhere. 

Happy workouts folks, see you at the gym.