Vomit...

Today is a rough day. Stuff just goes wrong. I don't realize I hit someone and the next thing I know, he's honking and motioning for me to pull over and telling the police I was fleeing the scene of an accident. That would be false. I didn't think there was an accident for me to flee from. Nonetheless, I get a citation for fleeing the scene and now have to appear in court. Honestly, this is stupid. If I had known I hit him, I would have stopped. And it's basically over a transfer of paint. No body damage whatsoever. I hate everything. So here's a picture of me with cake.

Aren't my coworkers the best?

I hope that this rage will filter in to my workout, tonight. I have my second session with Justin. I get to the gym around quarter of seven and change and head to that god-forsaken elliptical. Honestly, I feel like setting things on fire. But all that burns is my thighs because I suck it up and use the machine. I do it for 12 and a half minutes, two and a half over my requirement because I'm such an overachiever. Then Justin comes and finds me and we start the evenings workout.

We walk to the training room and I do the squat side-shuffle (sounds like a dance move, huh?) as a warm up. Then he takes me to the end of these long ropes. I've seen this before... I'm going to die. Basically, I'm supposed to raise and lower the ends of the ropes rapidly, so as to create a wave that travels down the length of the ropes. Justin tells me I'm going to do a set of 20, 30, and finally 40. In between these sets, I'm supposed to do a minute of squats. Kill me now.

I've tried to develop an attitude of conquering what is in front of me and not thinking about the long term, but I am ready to simply crumble into a heap of laziness at the thought of what the next 5ish minutes will hold. But I plug through, only because I have Justin telling me I'm not allowed to stop. When I finish, I think to myself, 'Wow, great workout. Good thing I'm done.' No such luck. I now have to do more squats.

Squats are my least favorite thing ever. But I told him I wanted to work on my butt, so I guess I have to do them. And boy are they painful. Then we go down the hall to the cardio room, where they also have a couple of trapeze machines. At least that's what they make me think of. Who knows what they're actually called.

I then have to do some arm thing that I can only describe as a chest clap. Like a clap in front of me with my arms stretched out, pulling on the weights as I bring my hands together. Like flying from a vertical position, if you will. Right about here, I feel like I may puke. I know someone who says it's awesome if you vomit during a workout because it means you're really pushing yourself. I am not of that opinion, right now. The last thing I want to do is puke. I am really regretting my decision to stress-eat greasy food for lunch.

I finish the flapping and do some planking, which is also really hard. I thought I knew how to do these things, but I find that I've been engaging all the wrong muscle groups and now have to re-learn how to do it correctly. Which leads to crazy sweating and fatigued arms. I can't help but feel whiny as I'm explaining this to Justin, because I'm sure it comes across as my stalling, which he totally calls me out for. Yes, occasionally I stall, but sometimes I honestly want to make sure I'm feeling it in the right place.

After the workout, he's very encouraging and wants me to think about continuing with the personal training, which I am absolutely in favor of doing. It's really helpful to have someone so closely involved to hold me accountable.