I joined the local gym last week.
Big deal, you say. People join gyms all the time, right? Walk past any gym, and it's full of people who have joined, usually doing all sorts of bending, running, lifting, stretching, and other things that, quite frankly, make them look sweaty and miserable.
And that's the thing. I don't like being sweaty and miserable, and I especially don't like paying someone for the privilege. I like being calm and comfortable, which usually means a couch, a TV, a usually very salty snack, and a beverage, preferably adult.
But all that comfort, combined with an office job that keeps me chained to my desk most of the time, has consequences. The metabolism slows, the waistline expands, the chins multiply. I have attempted moderate exercise in the past, only to stop after a month or two for whatever reason, usually stress or laziness. Left to my own devices, I would never stick to it. The only way I would ever be successful, I thought, is to join a gym and get a trainer. But it's so expensive, isn't it?
Well, after a particularly good month at work where I picked up a few extra bucks, my wife called my bluff. "You should join the gym". So I did. And to make sure I stick with it this time, I paid for a year up front. And I signed up with a trainer. I'm in it deep, now.
Why am I telling you this? Well, in order for this to work, I need to be held accountable. What better way to do that than share my story and risk failing spectacularly in front of the whole town? This may very well be the shortest blog in the history of the Internet.