Work It Out Wednesday: A Love-Hate Thing

If we're defining the term "hobby" as something you do frequently and get (at the very least) mild enjoyment from, then I guess you could say working out is mine.

On a good week, I make it to the gym at least 4 days, trying different workouts and checking the mirrors for results immediately after. Between Crossfit workouts I've stolen from Derrick and the old faithful machine cardio I've done since my "hobby's" inception, staying active has been the one thing I've had no trouble committing to. Sure, most days I hate it, and my coworkers get to hear the incessant complaining that usually starts around 4pm, but if I'm being honest, working out is something I love to hate. It hurts. It's daunting. It makes it harder to maintain a hairstyle. It leaves you sore. Really sore.

But it also helped me lose the 30 pounds I gained throughout college, mainly during my senior year. It helped me learn to give a damn about what I'm doing to my body, and forces me to see what I'm really made of. My favorite part of going to the gym? Being surrounded by people just like me, who are working hard to reach a goal. For some, that goal is to gain, and for others, it's to lose. Some may want to increase strength, while just around the corner may be someone looking to build endurance. The one constant, though, is that we're all there--sweating, grunting, breathing heavily (I promise I'm talking about working out.). But it's that feeling of solidarity that makes it that much easier to get through a workout and race to the mirror afterwards.

What I've realized throughout my workout journey is that your gym certainly makes a difference. In the 4.5 years I've been in NYC, I've been a member of 3 different gyms. All have served a different purpose, so you have to really think of your goals before deciding on the right one. I'll save my gym rundown for next week.

Today's workout was a struggle (mainly because I didn't want to workout at all), but I put on Beyonce's 2014 VMA performance, pushed through it, and walked out like a boss. I added a little extra pressure by wearing my "Pretty Girls Sweat" t-shirt; I couldn't NOT break a sweat while wearing it, so I ran a little harder to add a few damp marks along the back. (No judging!)

All in all, I'm happy I went despite the burning desire to hop on the first train home. Sure, I may have complained the whole way there, but I'm almost always smiling on my way out, and today was no different. 

I guess that's the thing about love-hate relationships.


(See the sweat marks on my tummy? Success! )

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