Day 1 of 20

Day 1 of my workout plan arrived. And bless my husband -- he is such a gym rat that it's the first place he goes every day.  The alarm went off that morning and I resisted. I didn't want to get up yet. I was on vacation! It was Sunday! It wasn't time to get up and rush for church yet!

But my husband gently nudged me and said "No pressure, but I'm going to the gym. Want to go with me?"

My first workout was a scheduled weighted HIIT/Circuit workout. The only equipment required was dumbbells. I could do it at home if I wanted to. I intentionally wanted to give myself that option -- I didn't want to have to be forced to go to the gym if I didn't want to go.  And I honestly didn't want to go to the gym.

I honestly wasn't kidding when I said I loved Kate's story line.
Except she looks halfway decent at the gym.
But this is how I feel at the gym: frustrated, embarrassed, and pointless.

I hate being seen at the gym -- particularly as heavy and out of shape as I am.  I hate being seen struggling.  I hate being seen with my hair drenched in sweat and my face as red as a tomato.  Because folks, let me be real with you: I am NOT a graceful gym girl. I sweat excessively. EXCESSIVELY. I get EXTREMELY red faced. I'm awkward. I struggle getting up/down from the floor.  Me at the gym is not a pretty picture.

But my other option was workout out in our detached garage, which is Daniels man cave. Which means its a MESS.  Dirty.  Lots of spider webs (and thus spiders, right?). No A/C.

I chose the gym.
I chose to go with my husband first thing that morning and get it over with.
I went.
I did it.

And it sucked. The first Popsicle I picked of course was a workout that had burpees and three rounds of mountain climbers every circuit. Le sigh. I moved slow. I was gasping for breath. I was dripping sweat.  My shirt wouldn't stay down and it clung to every bump and roll. I had to stop and rest more than was socially acceptable. But I did 20 minutes. I completed the goal for that day.