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The Exerciser Bunny
Oct. 3rd, 2012 09:32 amAs I've mentioned before, I have a personal trainer. She, like many in her profession, also teaches group classes, and has a "boot camp" class at the gym I use. This class starts at 5:30 PM on Monday, so on the occasions I work out in the evening I run into her. Well, this past Monday she asked me to join the class and, in a moment of weakness, I did.
Forty minutes into the hour-long class I was too pooped to pop, literally. This was somewhat to be expected, and apparently some of her students only do the class for a half-hour. At any rate, I bailed, while the rest of the class, including two seventy-something grandmothers, continued to work out. [Insert comment about my apparent lack of pride here.] I'm still a bit sore from Monday.
You've heard of the Energizer Bunny? I've christened my trainer the Exerciser Bunny.
Forty minutes into the hour-long class I was too pooped to pop, literally. This was somewhat to be expected, and apparently some of her students only do the class for a half-hour. At any rate, I bailed, while the rest of the class, including two seventy-something grandmothers, continued to work out. [Insert comment about my apparent lack of pride here.] I'm still a bit sore from Monday.
You've heard of the Energizer Bunny? I've christened my trainer the Exerciser Bunny.
