So I took my gym going to another level.
I haven't been going often... at all. So I figured I needed help if I were to expedite the degutting process. So last week I signed up for a personal trainer at the local Bally's.
I got Jen, a cute, short, bubbly girl. Oh yeah. She's also the manager and just finished her first Iron Man Triathlon this past weekend.
She kicked my ass last night. About 45min into my hour session I had to stop because the room was spinning. She said my blood sugar got too low and got me some Gatorade. I did feel better after that. Then we sat down and she said something about the food I eat... "How much did you pay for personal training? And how much did you pay for the mostacholi? Throw away the leftover mostacholi."
My choices are a) lifestyle change or b) blow it off. Both are valid.