Working out is hard. It’s a commitment. It’s a commitment to do something really hard that hurts and burns on a really regular basis. But once you catch the bug, it’s pretty hard to give up. Sadly I am yet to catch the bug.
My fitness history goes as such:
0-5 years: sitting, crawling, walking, running, riding bikes
5-10 years: participating in just about every sport known to man
10-12 years: ditto
12-15 years: gradual decline in sporting prowess and interest
15-18 years: introduction of internet, telephone and movies to daily schedule
18-22 years: car becomes sole mode of transportation
23 years: introduction of pies to diet, and inches to waist line, causing minor distress and resulting in the joining of gym.
I’ve now been a member of this gym for five months. Up until today I was seriously doubting the positive impact of going – and it certainly hadn’t had any effect in transforming this former Mr Puniverse into anything remotely resembling a universe. Until today. What did I realise today I hear you ask? I realised today that all this time, I’ve just been doing it wrong. The two Australian buffsters staying at my house accompanied me to the gym today and showed me what I should really be doing.
My new daily workout plan now includes…
Cross training, stretching, squats, sit ups, press ups, shoulder presses, chest presses and all sorts of other presses I never even knew existed. The results? Severe pain, but satisfaction all the same.
Oh and just in case you wanted some gym wardrobe tips….
I have two words for you.