Dear tiny, evil bundle of muscle and no body fat that is my personal trainer:
Today’s session sucked more than most. Mostly because I skipped a week and am dealing with the dueling banjos of jetlag and daylight savings time ending. Meaning when I met you at the gym today at 5:30, my body and mind really thought it was 8:30 and because it was so damn dark, both of us (body and mind) were ready to go to sleep.
But I digress...
Listen, this may come as a shock to you, but not everyone enjoys squats the way you do. In fact, most of us really don’t like them at all. The inner thigh ones are particularly heinous. I’m fairly certain I will never need to crack a walnut or crush a soda can between my legs, so maybe we could lay offa those a little bit.
Also, sneaking in all that cardio — today you actually asked me to “jog” in between sets and reps or whatever they’re called — is not very nice. Yeah, maybe my heart will thank you one day, but right now we’re just angry at you.
Finally, when you say “let’s go over to the mat,” that should be a signal that we are ready to cool down. Not a tricksey-trainer trick to get me to do three more sets of oblique crunches on the Bosu and a zillion minutes of “plank.”
However, I recently discovered that I have a tricep. So I guess you aren’t all bad. See you again on Thursday...
XO (with a little hate thrown in for good measure),
M
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