Time to exercise

I took this gym class the other day. I hadn’t exercised in ages but I like this particular class because it’s easy to follow, a good workout, and the music is catchy. There was a substitute instructor this time who, if I didn’t know any better, was auditioning to some invisible surveillance camera proving she’s tough enough for the job. God, she was a sadist. High on energy and endorphins, low on sense and sympathy.

The class is usually simple but she added complicated moves to work us harder, which made the workout pretty miserable. She'd urge, Come on, keep pushing! We want to lose our love handles! while pointing to her bony ribs.

And it wasn’t just me feeling it. The women who work out in the front who could practically be substitute instructors themselves were grimacing in irritation at the new stuff the substitute was throwing in. I know, I was muttering telepathically to them, I want to punch her too.

After what felt like forever curling some barbell, she giggles, oh, I’m sorry I lost count! Thankfully my exhaustion prevented me from hurling the barbell like a javelin at her to stop her unexhausted chirping.

Anyhoo, I made it through without killing her or myself. I'm sure she was real proud of herself for running such a tough class--she probably treated herself to some ice water and sliced apples.

Man, I’m just too out of shape.