A Jog Back In Time
1 Feb
My fitness journey started about three and half years ago… let me rewind.
I wouldn’t say I was fat but soft and definitely out of shape. At 27, standing 5’6” I weighed in at 140 lbs. Ok…ok… I lie… 145 lbs. I loved smoking, especially when I consumed excessive amounts of alcohol. (I’ve managed to give up the smoking a few years ago.)
On the weekend I’d eat out with friends, consume thousands of calories in wine, GG martinis and shooters. When the dj went home and the lights were turned on I would head to the nearest drive-thru for my night cap.
My exercise routine involved online shopping for Billy Blank Tae Bo tapes. I attempted the workouts a few times telling myself that Billy’s 30 minute routine would melt away the cheese curds and gravy from the last poutine I ingested.
So how did I end up in a park discussing my fictional fitness goals with Steve the Personal Trainer of Pulse Personal Training I asked myself as I sat in the spring grass trying my damnedest to look interested in his pitch. I was completely out of my element; I hated everything about gyms (hence the outdoor meeting), my cardio was horrible. I wasn’t able to jog for more than 5 minutes and my attempt at doing a push up was comical.
Over priced Lululemon wear, skinny bitches & meatheads made me nauseous… and yet there I was nodding my head in agreement to Steve’s every word as he kept nattering seemingly unaware of my discomfort. As my uneasiness transformed to irritation I couldn’t help but to think about the two people who were to blame for me handing over my first of many cheques to Steve, not to mention that my ass was now wet!
Who are the culprits responsible for me dishing out tens of thousands of dollars on Personal Training? Mike a coworker and overzealous fitness freak who was training for his second Iron Man and Julie a good friend who always shared in my over indulgence of food & booze. Mike’s daily tales of swimming, running and cycling and Julie’s admission she’d been seeing a personal trainer was just the right formula to summon guilt about my own complacency. I cursed them both as Steve said “12 more squats, come on!”
PT Girl xo
