Too Perky for My Blood

My wife has been transitioning back to work after maternity leave, so while trying to get into a morning routine, I've gotten a bit of a late start the last few mornings. Rather than skip a morning workout, though, I've made use of one of the many fitness DVD's in my house (most have been played only once, others less). After two such living room workouts, I've learned two lessons. One, I'm lazy. Two, I'm not perky when it comes time to sweat.

The video I've been using features more than one person doing the workout. One presenter models the moves at a beginner skill level. The other demonstrates how to make the moves more difficult. I don't pay much attention to that second lady. She has nothing to offer me at all. I'm not sure what’s the matter with her, but starting today, I’ll be praying for her.

Still, even doing the simplest versions of the moves, halfway through the workout, I'm hurtin'. If this is what it's supposed to feel like when I go workout on my own...I'm not doing it right. Over and over again I find myself falling behind my onscreen counterparts. By the end of a set, I am sweaty and exhausted. Many times I find myself unsure that I am going to be able to finish the disc. Does this mean that my morning workouts have not prepared me to even watch a DVD?

I guess I haven't been pushing myself hard enough at the gym. I can definitely see now the value of enlisting the services of a personal trainer. I know that the Summit has a number of personal trainers on staff. In fact, I think I may schedule a session with one of them down the road, once I'm confident that I would survive the encounter.

I will say this, though, any personal trainer of mine will not be a morning person. These video instructors drive me up the wall. "This move is a really fun challenge," I'm sorry, madam, but I disagree. I'm having no fun at all right now.

At first, I thought this woman must be some kind of masochist, taking pleasure in the horrible pain of the moves she demonstrates. Then I realized she's no masochist; she's a full-blown sadist, looking into the camera and finding joy in the knowledge that one day her image will drive me to tears in my living room. I don't know how she sleeps at night...probably hanging upside down in a cave.

I guess the issue is that, at least right now, exercise is not fun for me. I hope I get there, but for right now, if a personal trainer ever looked at me and smiled, "Isn't this fun," I'd be done for the day.