I started working with a new personal trainer on Halloween weekend, and that little spitfire of a thing is as sweet as she is demanding.
She has unconventional methods, starting me off “easy” by waking me up multiple times in the middle of the night to run up and down the exterior stairs of our condo ala G.I. Jane. I fall asleep at 7? PSHA! She wakes me up at 9, 11, 1, 3, and 5 for the sprints up and down the stairs. Sleep deprivation does absolute wonders for your patience with the small things; like opening a jar of salsa.
She also spent a lot of time in my living room talking, and wandering aimlessly and distracting me to the point that I found myself piecing together quick meals and eating standing up at the island.
I’m eating less, sleeping less and moving more. After roughly two months of these shenanigans, this week she let me graduate to walking.
While I’d had a few spasm of fitness in the 6 years since I met Mick (getting back on my bike and breaking my finger, bootcamp and screwing up my neck, walking and…uh…well… I haven’t been able to keep it a priority among the other demands in my life. Monthly knit night, Casserole Club, the non-profit and general catch up with friends over food or just hanging at home on the interwebs all outranked exercise by a factor that would shame the national debt.
Today, we knocked out a little over 5 miles*.
Meet Little Ms. Evey Pi, my new personal trainer.
*we won’t talk about our pace