Fifty Shades of Pain

Everything hurts.  That’s right, EVERYTHING.  I have a toe that isn’t working, a giant bruise on the TOP of my foot the origins of which are unknown, and my crotch hurts.  From exercise.  And not the exercise that you’re thinking of.  I have been doing time in LA with Mark my longtime friend and personal trainer.  

God, I hate him.

I swear by a personal trainer because I am a) kind of lazy and b) seem to enjoy gross amounts of pain. There’s nothing like paying for your own personal drill sergeant to treat you like dirt.  Here are my thoughts on selecting a personal trainer.

1.  Your trainer should be in exceptional shape.  Like Olympic steroid / Tour de France doping kind of shape. If your trainer isn’t built of concrete and fantasy, you’ve got the wrong one.

2.  Your trainer should suffer from multiple personality disorder.  Kind of like your elementary school PE teacher. High fives in the hall one minute, hurling balls at your face during Double Dodge the next.

3.  Your trainer should be unreasonably attractive.  Their obscene level of hotness will make you feel disgusting and full of shame.  Shame is a key motivating factor. You’ll nearly die trying to impress them but almost dying is a really good workout.

4.  Your trainer should have no capacity for empathy.  They won't care that you might be stroking out. I tried to explain to Mark about the very painful bruise on my foot, while he simultaneously sent me a text message that said, “Why are you talking?”

5.  Your trainer should not own a timekeeping device.  They should only attempt a crude guess as to how many minutes have passed while you are holding a plank and praying for the rapture to come right effing now.  2 minutes to you = 10 seconds to your trainer.
 

Oh and never EVER be honest with your trainer.  

Mark: “How do you feel?”

Cat: “I’m hurting.”  

I'm hurting is the wrong answer. Answering anything other than, “Great!,” just bought you another round of misery. 

Let’s be clear,  Mark secretly wants me to leave every session in an ambulance. And this week I have been close to the gurney.  But this legal abuse is making me at least 2% more awesome. 

Well if not, I now know the suffering of others.