OK, with my gym membership came two free sessions with a personal trainer. The guy selling me the membership said he was giving me the free training sessions to make up for the fact that one of his co-workers nearly hit me in the head with a stapler when trying to toss it to him. But the truth is, the sessions come free with the membership as their attempt to make me buy further sessions with a trainer -- regardless of any narrow misses with office supplies.
Thus: Nick.
I spent the week prior to my training session joking that "Nick" probably wasn't his real name. It's his professional name. Just like my hairdresser isn't really named Lance. Nick is just his nom de gym.
So, I show up for my training session all eager to learn about the equipment and have a fitness routine that's somewhat more exciting than my prior routine of: 12 minutes on the bike, 18 minutes on the elliptical machine, 15 minutes on the treadmill.
Since I'm sure you're eagerly anticipating the amazing workout routine established for me by a professional (and AOL's character limits don't let me drag out the suspense much longer), I'll tell you right now that Nick came up with: 20 minutes on the bike.
That's it. Apparently, I was on the right track to begin with. (The right track for a person like me being: Cardio, cardio, and, um, let's try a bit more cardio.) But Nick thinks I should go a little longer on a single piece of equipment, and he likes the bikes best because they're newer and have heart rate monitors that actually work.
I tried Nick's routine yesterday and found I don't like it. In fact, during the last few minutes of not liking it, I was working on an Exercise Bike Haiku. It reads like this:
My legs are tired.
My heart ain't so good either.
Nick can go to hell.
(Imagine that's formatted correctly. Insert eye roll at AOL here.)
Second free training session is on Sunday. I think I might share my poem with him.
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