So, Mr. Grumpiface and I have started going to the gym in the morning before work. Wednesday we started with weights, and today it was cardio. He’s getting ready to do a fitness show in November, it’s done by a lady at our dojo who is a VERY big deal in the fitness world. He did it last year and had to diet for sixteen weeks prior to the show. I’m planning to diet and train with him this year, because as it turns out, I have no self-control, I don’t actually know as much about weight training as I thought I did, and… I have a talent for finding new and interesting ways to hurt myself.
I don’t do anything that caliber of stupid, but I have done some pretty great things. For example, this morning, I fell off the treadmill. I HATE running. I hate cardio. I hate treadmills. Give me an elliptical trainer over a treadmill any day! My feet have been weirdly sore for a while, so my foot was starting to hurt, I was getting really tired, and I closed my eyes for a second to activate my Berserker mode, and then – womp. I landed on my feet (’cause I’m a fucking ninja) but it was rather alarming.
Anyway. Mr. Grumpiface and I are not happy people in the morning. He called me a whiny bitch on Wednesday (I didn’t want to touch my head with the weight bar, I don’t know who else has been touching it! Ewww!) And I made some comment about him being a cranky bitch. Today, I fell off a treadmill and he got mad at me. I think he’s getting tired of taking me to the hospital. But, later on he told me he loves me because I am trying really hard to better myself, so it’ll be worth it, right? … Right?