Your Real Life Inner Monologue During Every Type Of Workout


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Your Real Life Inner Monologue During Every Type Of Workout

Honestly, I have never been exercising for an hour and thought, “Yes, this is nice. I want to do more of this.” And I’m prepared to call anyone who says differently a liar. Going to the gym is like writing an essay. You have those who fake it ‘til they make it so they get it done, and you have those who go through the long, grueling process and are relieved to reach the end. Perhaps you fall somewhere in the middle — the gym is your worst enemy, but when you can finally guilt yourself into going, you put in the work. This is for you, guilty gym-goers.

While Spinning: This bike is adjusted for some Amazon who is six feet tall. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. No I won’t. I can’t reach the pedals. Do I raise my hand? Okay yeah, teacher lady AKA some girl who is actually exactly my age, just with a better body, can you help me with my bike? Don’t look at me like I’m stupid. This is hard. Wait we’re starting already? Why are we starting? I’m not ready. I just had Chipotle. I can feel my Chipotle. Help. Help me. It’s really hot in here. Is anyone else hot? Everyone else looks like they came out of the womb on a bicycle. I need some water. This isn’t fun. Life is too short to spend it riding a bicycle that’s not going anywhere.

While Doing Yoga: Child’s pose. Yes. I like this. This is fun. Who needs naps when I can go to yoga? Now downward facing dog. Not bad. Still not bad. Wrists are starting to hurt, but I’m okay. Feeling less okay. Why are we still doing downward facing dog. I can’t. We’re moving. Nice. No more dog poses. Teacher is balancing on one leg. I’ve done that before. In elementary school. I’m doing it! Kidding, I’m not. Okay, it’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I had to fall at some point, so good thing I got it out of the way now. And now we’re doing another animal pose. Crow? No, thanks. Nope. I am a fully grown human and I have lost the ability to balance on just my hands. But everyone is doing it so it’s more embarrassing to just sit here. I’ll go back to child’s pose. That’s my pose. I am a child. Namaste.

While Doing A Core Blast Class: I’m expecting the worst. I am here with the full knowledge that I will spend a lot of time in pain, leave in pain, go to bed in pain, and probably wake up tomorrow in pain. I’m a baby, I’m sorry, I don’t like to struggle. Summer is coming and swimsuits are coming and I am here to rock it. Situps? I got this. Okay, yeah, those were fine. Weights? Okay I’m grabbing some five-pounders. Don’t judge me, I can do what I want. Okay yes, five pounds was a good choice. How is this girl doing fifteen? Can’t go much longer. Nice, done with that. Come at me core blast. Crunches. I’m fine. Crunches with weights. Fine. Twisting crunches. Fine. Crunches with yoga ball. Fine. I’ve been lying this whole time. Nothing is fine, everything hurts. Smile through the pain. Jumping jacks. These are fun. Burpees? That’s a funny name. But not a funny activity. Probably, if I had to designate an exercise as “of the devil,” it would be burpees. Done. I’m done. I can’t. Crunches. Smile through the tears.

While At Zumba: I am the dancing queen. This is where I belong. I feel the beat. I feel a little silly, but everyone is doing it so it’s no big deal. These girls are skinny, so it must be working. Okay maybe I’m not the dancing queen. I’m so off the beat it’s not even funny. Cha cha cha. Okay yeah I know that’s not a thing. I’m trying, that’s what counts. This is why I quit dance at age 4. But don’t think of this as dance, it’s a workout class. Dance away those calories. I don’t like this. Is it over? I’m tired and done. So done. But this class isn’t done. Please be done.

While At Boot Camp: Sorry, I’m busy that day. All of the days of boot camp.


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