I hate working out. It’s SO. DAMN. BORING. and fraught with social interactions I’d rather avoid.
I tried running. I really did. I got the phone apps. I got fitted for the shoes. I joined training programs. It was multiple-exclamation-points-terrible.
Running around outside makes me feel like an idiot. I’m dripping sweat in a ratty T-shirt and shorts that are probably too short as I pass office workers heading into the city with makeup and expensive suits. Or, running at night, I end up as fodder for the scourge of mosquitos that follow me around in a cloud as soon as I step outside.
Jogging on the treadmill at our apartment’s gym is almost as bad. Thank god for climate control and the absence of insects, but dear lord, it’s just so monotonous, and there’s only so much a workout music playlist can do before it becomes completely useless.
So that leaves an actual brick-and-mortar gym. And, for a long while, I was a gym rat. I went every day for at least an hour. But, the problem with going to a gym that frequently is that you start to make friends.
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