Wow it’s hard to workout with a bitchin’ hangover. I came to this conclusion on Monday but I think I always knew it in my heart.
Actually most of the hangover was slept off during the day. I’d gotten a bit sick at work and headed home to get some rest. I only had one hard ice tea!
Urr…hard ice tea — let’s not speak of it again. It could have been the potato salad. But I’m going with the weird alcoholic beverage, since that’s what I tasted in the back of my throat.
I didn’t have the heart to tell Seven (my trainer) that I was worse for wear, so I just pushed through the pain as much as I could. However, I did feel incredibly weak.
He completely changed the routine on me. I was dying. And dry as hell! I kept having to run and get a drink. Next time I have to bring a container or water bottle or something.
After that fresh slice of hell, somehow, Wednesday was worse. I rested Tuesday but my body was tired and sore. It was a real shit workout but I still forced myself to tack on that half hour of cardio at the end, which is also a new part of my routine. It sucks.
I need to find something like a dance class or power yoga to get more cardio exercise…I pretty much can’t stand toiling away on the elliptical for half an hour. Snooze fest!
Thursday my at-home workout piddled down to half an hour session instead of a full hour because I was equally tired and basically spent. I have no idea where my energy went, I’ve been eating every three hours and getting sleep, so maybe it’s just my body adjusting to the new routine.
By the end of the week the gym was unusually packed. Generally speaking Fridays are less crowded, but it was L.A. pride so every fag in the universe was getting their pump on.
In Conclusion: I must be doing something right because I received out of the blue compliments from a straight guy (co-worker), who lifted his shirt to show me he’s been hittng the gym hard too. That was sexay.