No Pain, No What?

Who was the genius who originally penned that expression? And, more importantly…why do people like me feel that this saying necessitates feeling monumental pain in order to believe that a routine is, in fact, working?

Now hear this: Terry Simpson is a tormentor. A persecutor….and I’m glad Guido screwed up his hair.

Okay, so maybe I’m being just a tad dramatic.

Just a smidge.

But, seriously…when I awoke this morning, I felt nothing. Nada. Zilch. I thought “Oh, great…just great…isn’t that just typical? Waste all that time and all that money...and for WHAT?”

Then I remembered that the whole workout took under 30 minutes (both combined) and that it was free. Still, I scowled…it didn’t work, so what good does that do?

It’s the principle, dammit.

Around early afternoon however, I noticed a general sense of soreness…which began around my ankles…and spread…to about my temples. Give or take.

Uh oh.

Undaunted, I decided the slight soreness I was experiencing was in fact an invitation to go another round. I mean, I’m probably just in better shape than I’d thought…and this workout is probably, ya know, meant for like, novices….of which I’m sure I am not.

And this time, I’ll even remember to disable my screensaver. (See? I’m always thinking…)

So. 28 minutes and 37 seconds later, I finished Round Deux.

Now everything hurts…so, I guess this means I’m officially on my way to being the perfect female specimen of…female flawlessness.

I’m sure that most flawless women say “ow” when they walk down the stairs. Or when they walk up the stairs. Or when they rise from a seated position. Or when they raise their wine glass to their lips….(oh, GOD…I just may have to QUIT).

As an alternative to working out with Terry-the-Terror, maybe I’ll just “do as the Brits do”…this is certainly another way to get in some cardio.
Do not adjust your computer monitors...you're honestly watching hoards of people chase wheels of cheese.

Suddenly, that Monster Truck Rally doesn’t look so silly….now does it??