I joined a gym. This one, actually. We have a program through work to get access to their whole network for (essentially) the same price as a single gym, and we get towel service… whatever that is. 🙂
Anyway, since my previous gym experiences were me on a treadmill chatting up my boss (that was the only way to get any face-time), I figured I could use some help, and also went in for a PT (Personal Trainer… Lookit’ me, using the lingo!) for a few weeks anyway, and she’ll help me navigate the equipment. You know, so I don’t break anything. Like a leg. Or an elliptical machine. Neither is something that I am not easily capable of.
Her name is Natasha and she is 5 foot nothing and made of muscle. Oh, and less than 1/2 my age. No pressure.