Going to the gym goes against everything I hold dear and true. I hate it. I'd rather take a freaking beating than go to the gym. What happened to me to make me run screaming from this place that so many (including my extremely buff fiance) L-O-V-E so much?
I can't really figure it out, except that it is so different from my usual routine of sitting on the couch and leisurely reading magazines and watching Food Network. I decided to take things slow, ease myself into the situation, and go to the gym (just to walk) for 30 minutes, 2 days a week. Easy, right?
On Tuesday I was actually quite excited about my speck of motivation. I went during my lunch break and trotted on down for a mile and a half. I mean, it wasn't fun. But it wasn't torture, either. But when I left it sucked to go back to work and then was dazed and exhausted and gross. I am hoping that will get better. I need to go again this weekend. Keep ya posted.
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