I hate working out. I hate the gym. I hate sweating. I just hate the whole ordeal. But, this week I challenged myself. I’ve recently decided that after gaining the freshman fifteen AND the sophomore fifteen (is that a thing?), that it was finally time to do something about it.
I decided to work out five days straight. Monday-Friday.
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Day 1:
How in the hell has this girl pretty much made it to the top of the rock climbing wall? I ask myself while gasping for breath after 20 minutes of running on the elliptical. Yeah, 20 minutes isn’t too long, but for a girl who hasn’t been to the gym in five months… it’s a pretty long time. I continue to trudge on while blasting “Paris” by the Chainsmokers, repeatedly. Thank god for that song, that’s all I have to say.
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Day 2:
This is the day I almost run off the elliptical and to the bathroom because puke is making its way up my esophagus. If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m out of shape. At least I have my Netflix. If you haven’t watched Parenthood yet, you should. It’s the reason I didn’t die at the gym this day.
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Day 3:
Alright, so I’m still sore, but not as sore as the past two days. I must be making some sort of process, right? This day I am lucky enough to have my two best friends with me. Doing abs above all the people playing volleyball definitely helps because who doesn’t love watching a nice volleyball match?
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Day 4:
I can’t believe I’m actually going to the gym alone today. That shows dedication. After running a mile in ten minutes on the elliptical, I am feeling pretty good. Then my friend shows up and the whole minute plank and minute wall sit thing she’s making me do, not so cool.
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Day 5:
I’m sore, but you know what? I feel good. Shout out to my friend for making me do all those stupid frog crunches. I feel like I’ve actually made a little bit of progress. Although the 1,020 calories of ice cream I ate last night probably didn’t help… at least I made it to the gym, right? Looking in the mirror, I swear my stomach has lost one roll.
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Happy sweating, collegiettes!
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