I've been hanging out with Gym a lot lately. Like five or six times a week. And let me tell you, he's been kicking my butt. Kick.Ing.It. With a name like Urban Active, how could I resist joining? I knew I needed to do something not only to get in shape but also to improve my mental/emotional health. So I hooked up with Gym.
To say I was intimidated on our first date would be a ridiculous understatement. My chest tightened with anxiety just looking at all the equipment that I had no clue how to use, and seeing all the people who very clearly knew what they were doing.
But I dove right in, expending more energy in one 20-minute session than I had in weeks. Months.
And I hobbled for days afterward. No lie. Hover-peeing was completely out of the question, and walking down a set of stairs nearly ended in catastrophe on more than one occasion.
But I kept seeing Gym.
And the I-can't-believe-it-hurts-this-much soreness gradually subsided---for the most part.
Now Gym and I spend an hour together just about every day. I work hard; I sweat a disgusting amount; I huff and puff all the way to the bitter end. Today I pushed myself really hard. And I've had jell-o legs ever since. [Note to self: Hold the handrail on the way downstairs.]
While I don't expect I'll ever say, I love working out!, I do walk away feeling exhausted proud of myself.
So for that reason, I can say I love Gym.
Even though he kicks my butt.