Fancy Gym: Day One
Well, my first personal trainer workout at the #fancygym this morning went really poorly.
I arrived slightly early and the PT was 15 minutes late. Furthermore, I’m pretty sure he was *only* 15 minutes late because I asked more than once about where he was. On top of that, there’s a verbal quirk in Irish English that probably comes from something in the Irish language, where people often end a sentence with “so” or “like” or “okay”. Normally I don’t mind that, but the guy who was trying to cover for the late PT ended everything not only with “okay”, but the upward inflection that made it sound like a question. He was not actually asking a question, but every time he said it I wanted to snarl that no, it was *not* okay, because I’m paying money for this service and I expect it to be delivered on time.
So I was really not predisposed to appreciate the workout by the time the guy arrived, and then it was…not a workout I expected. It wasn’t a bad one, except the back extensions…thing…it’s not a machine, it’s something you step into and do body weight with…makes my knees feel pretty awful, so I’m not gonna do that, obviously. It’s all a body weight workout except one set with weights for shoulders, and it’s fine, if not particularly inspiring. And it might have been perfectly inspiring if I wasn’t pissed off to begin with, IDK.
Then he was like “so the cardio, do you like treadmills or crossfit” and I, who had already told two people at this gym, both of whom had written it down, that I won’t use those machines, said, pretty fucking flatly at that point, “I will not run or crossfit. I will row or cycle,” and he gave me a rowing set that I may or may not do. I mean, I’ll row, but I don’t know that I’ll do the thing he wants me to, because, AS I EXPLAINED TO THEM ALREADY, I’m already (theoretically) biking there and back again, which is about all the cardio my fat ass self can handle right now.
And I don’t know if it’s because this whole thing had already made me really cranky or what, but there are a lot of Very Fit Women at that gym, sufficiently fit as to make me feel quite self-conscious, which is pretty unusual for me, so that didn’t improve my temper any.
And I walked home so I could figure out the shortcut Ted and Henry told me about, because I knew where it came out but not where it started, and I wanted to know that so I could *actually* bike. It was a pleasant enough walk, except I’d already just done a workout for the first time in A VERY LONG TIME and it took most of an hour to walk home (which is why cycling is the only really viable option for getting to this gym), so I’m pretty wrecked.
Anyway, usually working out makes me pretty cheerful, but I’m a goddamn crankypants right now.
This week I have unintentionally but thoroughly proven that I will not get up at 5:30am to exercise. I will just barely get up at that time to write, but if my mental position is that I’m going to get up and exercise rather than that I’m going to get up and write…I stay in bed. The result is I haven’t exercised hardly at all *and* I’m behind on where I want to be with writing. Not massively behind, I still have a couple days to finish the next short story in, but behind. And my red rockabilly dress has arrived at Stage One of its delivery location and is apparently *magnificent*, so having not been exercising or in any way losing weight is depressing. Sigh.
Anyway, so I have to figure the exercise window the hell out, but from Monday I will be turning up in the war room at Oh God Stupid, because it is my hope to write “No Dominion” in the second half of January, and that won’t happen if I don’t bloody well get up and write. Maybe a 5:30am arrival time in the war room will be early enough to catch some Left Coasters who haven’t gone to bed yet…
Man. I’m cranky. *sigh*