Look, I’m not a healthy person. This is not a healthy post. I had chocolate covered almonds for dinner two days ago and felt accomplished for eating a nut.
However, I do live in New York City. And I do walk a ton. I also live with a 7 year strong vegan. I also want to be in better shape.
All of these factors lead to me opening Aaptiv (not sponsored – lol) for the first time in months. There I was, belly scratching and eating some chocolate, pulling up a workout app as Prep commercials played in the background (we were watching the Tonys).
They’d changed their layout, it was a coach model now, I had to pick a goal, a workout goal.
How many times on average do you work out a week?
Since when was “a week” a reasonable time frame with which to measure? I go to a kickboxing class once a month, but even that’s a stretch seeing as it’s June and I haven’t gone since April. Let’s say 0.
How many times do you want to work out a week?
Never? Can I get those really nice toned Blake Lively arms from my couch with my chocolate? No? Fine, 2.
Which days would you like to work out?
Oh lord. A days of the week thing? Well, I want to be in better shape, that’s why this app even exists on my phone in the first place. Maybe I could try Noom or whatever but honestly I just want better arms and shoulders. Fine. I already picked strength training. I already told you I have no equipment. Fine. I want to work out. So we’ll start tomorrow. And… what day is furthest from Monday? Thursday. Fine. I’ll start tomorrow and Thursdays.
I click the buttons, the app thinks, the algorithm churns out a workout schedule designed specifically for my lazy ass. Thanks Algo.
Fast forward to yesterday morning and I’m snoozing my fifth alarm, slowly coming to consciousness, and realizing that if I want to do the full half hour workout Algo has planned for me, I will be late to work. I pulled myself out of bed, and went to try and do something healthy.
I stretched alright, I did this “chill” stretch that was supposed to let you cool down after running. I had done zero running, but you know, I stretched. That’s activity, right?
Fast forward to last night, I had three Milano cookies and a Twix bar at work – but I also had a small lunch, so that makes up for it, right? And besides getting stronger and eating too much chocolate aren’t necessarily correlated, right?
So I head home with specific intentions, I’m gonna do the dang workout. It’s what I’m supposed to do today, it’s what I committed to doing today. I’m gonna do it. Of course, in classical C manner, I express these intentions to no one, the least of which my loving girlfriend who, when I got home, I discovered to be experimenting with a new recipe and prepping a lovely appetizer and wine pairing. Workouts and wine. What a combo.
In the end I got to do them all. I helped with the cooking and the cleaning (Z has a knack for destroying the kitchen when she cooks), I drank the wine, I ate the ordurvs, I watched an episode of Gentleman Jack. And I did my stupid work out.
And it felt good! What a shocker! Half way through I was sweating bullets and I cursing whoever invented high knees, but I was happy! I hadn’t moved my body like that in a long time and it was exhilarating! I felt like I could climb a mountain or swim the English channel or bench press a bull. Suddenly I was making plans to never eat chocolate again (since then I’ve had half a chocolate croissant and more chocolate covered almonds). I was sweaty and as red as a beat and at the end I laid on the floor for a solid minute before moving again. But I was so freaking happy. Endorphins are real, folks, and just a little scary.
Here’s a link to my Monday workout. Algo’s given me two days of “Drink more water” and “Stretch before bed” before Thursday’s take two. I’ll let you know how it goes.