Indulge me please as I write just one more gym post.
I misread my contract I signed up for 8 training sessions, not 6. Are you sobbing or laughing?
And with my second one down, I have come to understand the subtleties of Stockholm syndrome.
There I am, trapped for an hour, with Andrew. And even though my muscles are screaming ""I can't hold this pose for one more second", I do.
Because I want Andrew to like me.
Picture me with my back against a wall, knees bent at a 45degree angle, arms stretched straight out in front holding a 10 pound weight. Now picture me holding this post for 45 seconds, calves and quads starting to tremble at 30, turn into jelly by 40 and then just holding on for the final 5,4,3,2,1. At one I collapse into a small pile on the floor, then scramble up to go on to the next set of something hellish. We repeat this exercise 3 times.
When I finish a set of calve raise and my right calf is cramping unbearably do I say no when he suggest "just one more"? Of course not, I take a second to stretch out the muscle and do that extra lift. Andrew is my friend.
Then when the hour is up and I am red faced and drenched in sweat, do I lay on the floor in a bundle of pain as my body suggests?
Of course not, I shake his hand, say great workout, then set up a time for the next circle of hell.
Immediately after I rush out and buy some Ben Gay, soak in a hot bath with salts and sleep like a baby.
Because for all this complaining, I must admit to being in a wonderful mood today, mind and body overflowing with energy and endorphins.
Just call me Tania.