This isn’t new and I swear I’ve posted it before, but it’s more appropriate than ever now that I, too, lift weights and try to look huge:
Since I last talked about swoleness, I’ve started working with a personal trainer at a gym and it takes everything I have not to tell all and sundry about it. (Trader Joe’s checker: “Got any fun plans this weekend?” Me, internally: “Yes! I’m gonna get my ass kicked at the gym! I never thought I’d like it! It’s the weirdest and best thing!”)
I have never been sporty. I never thought I would ever enjoy “the burn.” In fact, I did just about everything in my power to AVOID feeling any prolonged or extreme burn my entire life–but now I’m at a gym three days a week working towards a goal of lifting my bodyweight. No one is more surprised than I.
Every session with the trainer is literally the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I do things I never would have considered on my own (push a hundred-pound sled?! I SAID GOOD DAY, SIR!) But after every session–once I stop feeling like I might die–I feel invincible. If I can do [whatever Extremely Challenging Physical Thing I just did], I can do anything.
It’s like I’m in my own training montage in a movie.
I know–from a non-sporty lifetime of pretending to care about sporty people talking about their sport–that no one cares about your workout but you. But I can’t stop talking about it! It’s not even like I can brag about how much I can bench (12 pound dumbbells, bro!); I’m just so excited about my own action movie montage that I assume other people want to know about this too.
So if I know you and all I talk about is my workouts, or how sore one muscle is, or how another one might be getting bigger, or how far I pushed the damn sled: I’m sorry.
And have you considered powerlifting? It’s really fun.