Remember yesterday when I asked if it was selfish to spend money on a gym membership?
Answer: Um, it’s only selfish if you’re a masochistic freak.
The simple, yet affective, conversation between Emily and I after our visit to the gym yesterday.
After going to apartment complex gyms for the last two years, I’ve become slightly awkward in social fitness situations. Normally, it was just me and the Sweaty Shirtless Man in the gym, and I was fine to do my own thang.
Now? As soon as I walk in the door I’m smacked in the face with ten tons of muscle and glistening girls in spandex. Please trust, I am not made of muscle, nor do I even come close to looking like a glistening goddess when I work out.
When I walked up to the front desk yesterday the conversation between the buff gym staff member and myself was this:
Buff Guy: Hey there!
Me: Um, hi. *awkwardly approaches desk* Is this where I sign in?
At this point I was speeding through a Hail Mary hoping that he didn’t have to take my picture.
BG: Nope, just scan your card here *points to what I thought was the camera*
Me: Oh, okay! *scans* Am I good? Did it work?
BG: Yep…you can go now.
I made one wrong turn before I found the arc trainer and did a 35 minute interval workout while I waited for Emily to show up for Body Pump. I was sweaty by the time she arrived, but I was ready to attack Body Pump!
I’d love to say I was a star student, that I kept up with the other girls in the class, that I didn’t wobble when we did lunges, and that today – I feel limber.
What really happened? Body Pump attacked me.
The toughest part of my morning-after-Body-Pump? Pouring the milk into my cereal…
Let’s chat – What’s the toughest group fitness class you’ve ever taken?