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Dem Bones

The Big One

As I mentioned earlier, I'm giving myself a little jump start on my New Year's resolutions.  I have also bought myself an early birthday present.  Since I'm approaching a milestone birthday, I have taken some drastic measures to ensure that I hit the second half of my thirties in top condition:  I started with boot camp, and more recently, I've kicked it into high gear at the gym since I re-joined NYSC a few weeks ago.  Last week was the coup de grace -- I purchased a 20 pack of personal training sessions, two of which I completed last week.

Ali, my trainer, is huge.  HUGE.  I truly believe that he could eat me for a light snack and still be hungry.  His manner, however, is firm but fair.  He's pushy, but in a good way, and even laughs at my self-deprecating humor ("no really, there are muscles under that squishy stuff." "I know.  I see them trying to come out.").  Muscles that I never knew existed are sore from last weeks two workouts, and he has given me homework over the weekend.  I have instructions to do cardio, but not just hopping on the elliptical trainer for a while, no sir.  Ali prefers other, more torturous cardio devices, like the stair-stepper with actual stairs, and my arch-nemesis, the Versa-Climber.  I really think he might be out to kill me.

Tomorrow, spin and yoga, and more of the same next week.  Look out 35 -- I'm comin' to get ya.

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