Trent and I went on a walk tonight to burn off some of Gracie’s energy.
It was GORGEOUS out. Not cold, not hot and we had a shady walk under the mature trees in our neighborhood.
By the time we made it to the coy pond, not even 1 mile away, I broke into a profuse sweat and my legs sort of burned.
That’s just sad.
So the walk back was basically me trying to convince Trent that I needed a personal trainer for motivation.
Which then resulted in TRENT trying to convince ME that HE would be my personal trainer…if I paid him.
The conversation went something like this…
Me: “I need a personal trainer. If someone just told me what to do I would do it.”
Trent: “That’s a waste of money. I’ll tell you what to do.”
Me: “Ya, no. I need a professional.”
Trent: “If you give me $20 an hour, I will be as professional as they come.”
Me: “I don’t trust you to actually follow through with this.”
Trent: “Trent Rainzenegger, personal trainer to the stars, always follows through.”
Me: “Did you just mash your name with Arnold Schwarzenegger?”
Trent: “I’ll be back! (in a really terrible Arnold Schwarzenegger voice) And I’ll keep coming back until you let me be your personal trainer for money.”
Me: “Fine. Just please don’t make me hate you.”
So it begins…
Rainzenegger instructs me to change and get ready for the “workout of my life.”
I come downstairs to see Rainzenegger removed the rugs from the hardwood floors. No slippage in this mug.
I’m instructed to jog in place for 1 minute “to get the blood flowin”
Already breathing hard.
Rainzenegger escorts me to the dining room, where I am instructed to stand against the wall. From now on, the wall will be referred to as the edge of hell.
I’ve made it about 10 lunges and my legs are shaking. Rainzenegger is yelling to “dip it low, bring it up slow!”
Five minutes in and I’m feeling a little queazy. The snicker doodle cookies I ate an hour before feel like bricks tumbling around my insides.
Wall sits. 30 seconds in and I can’t make it. Can’t stop laughing at my dog who is STARING deep into my soul while I sit on an invisible chair. She’s confused.
I ask for another water break. Rainzenegger, “personal trainer to the stars”, says no.
Side lunges from hell. Rainzenegger says to stop acting like a “jv backup”. I say to stop acting like a freaking drill sergeant.
We have now completed 2 sets of “stations”. I am convinced I will never be able to walk normal again.
I want to cut off my legs. Rainzenegger convinces me that I CAN do a wall sit for a full minute. I grab two fist fulls of his shirt and proceed to do a laugh/mostly cry for the remaining 30 seconds.
Workout is over. I could swim laps in my own sweat.
Rainzenegger hands me a chunky glass of “magic chocolate milk”. Also known as a protein shake.
I have managed to force down 75% of the chocolate goop. My dog continues to stare at me. Convinced she is witnessing my death.
Rainzenegger tells me the times above are all wrong. It was a 25 minute workout.
It felt like days. I digress.
Good thing I only committed to 3 days a week. Should be no problem…as long as I’m able to actually get out of bed in the morning.
If how my legs feel now are any indication, things aren’t looking good.