When Tuesdays and Thursdays roll around, I dread having to leave my nice comfortable bed. Those are the days that I work out with my personal trainer for the summer. Not to mention sleep has been a bit difficult recently because of the heat. So it's in bed by 12, asleep by 1, up by 7, and working out by 9:30 or 10.
The poor guy puts up with a lot, because I'm a complainer. At least I occasionally provide some entertainment, as I confessed the other day that in order to complete difficult sets, I whisper the names of past U.S. presidents who really peeve me. Probably my most used president is Martin Van Buren. He was an ass.
Tuesday and Thursday mornings remind me of my mother's stories of the 600 yard dash. In high school she would feel sick for a week, anticipating the day she would have to run the 600 yard dash, only to stay in bed and have to make it up by herself when she returned. I'm already feeling nervous, with only about 10 minutes to go until I have to leave for the gym. I guzzle a last little bit of water in a desperate attempt to reverse the dehydration that has built up over the past two days.
Wish me luck!
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