Ana and I are nearing the end of our relationship at this gym. I’m pretty sure she’s trying to kill me just a little more in each session as we get closer and closer to our last.

Tonight’s workout was a little like murder, and I am a sweaty sweaty woman right now. We started with a warmup on the bike (10 minutes of fun) and a little balance board action. Then we went into some step ups, lat pulldowns and squats. I’m up over a hundred pounds for the squats, and let me tell you, it’s hard to do anything but focus on the lift when you’re up over that magical three digit number. We did this combo three times. Ana tried to distract me with some good stories, but yanno what? It still hurt.

After that series of exercises, we switched over to some new goodness. We did some rows on a machine where you’re sitting down and leaning back and yanno what? who cares. It hurt like a mofo. Another one where you just focus on breathing out and lifting. That was followed by kettlebell swings and then another new exercise. This was a set of straps hanging from a machine and you hold onto them and lean sort of backwards and then do an incline pull up, sort of like a reverse pushup. You see it on the biggest loser sometimes. Yanno what? It hurt. We did that series of exercises three times.

Then we did one set of leg presses and I said “no, I don’t think so”. Out loud. Because Ana can hurt me only so much in a night before I cry uncle. That was my uncle. You could wring out my (drifit) tshirt, people. I hurt. I’m tired and I hurt. S’all I gotta say.

Squash on Saturday, working out on Sunday. That’s four hard workouts in a week. I’m kicking it old school, and man are my knees and ankles ever letting me know. I’m pretty sure I’m going to smelly like icy hot for the rest of my life. I’m so close to 35, my body is now actively rebelling. I hurt. And that’s enough of my moaning. I’m off to take an advil and sleep it off.