Glutton for Punishment
I’m making some changes. The first one being, I am going to the gym five days a week. If you know me, you know I hate working out. More specifically I hate running. I used to love to run. But now I hate it and there is no amount of anything that will make me enjoy it. It is a chore. The worst chore EVER in the history of chores. But I’m doing it. Why? Because my dumbass thought it’s be a super fantastic idea to sign up for a race in March. I have no idea where I come up with these things and I really should remind myself that I LOATHE RUNNING when I up and decide it’s a good idea to run a fucking race.
Because I’m running a fucking race I’ve thought that maybe I should just go ahead and start a fitness routine, because I’m full of bright ideas lately. Part of that fitness routine is to take up spin. Why? Because I’m a glutton for punishment, obviously. I took my very first spin class on Saturday…and it was an hour of torture. Since then my sits bones have done nothing but be a pain in my ass. Not figuratively. Within the first ten minutes of the class I was silently cursing myself and wishing I had never agreed to do this. For it was apparent that I am wholly out of shape.
But I’m going to keep up with this whole fitness mess. Why? Because I want to tone up, I want to be physically fit…and I want to be around for a long, long time for my daughter.
