I’m sweaty and I smell bad right now.  That’s what happens on a good day at the gym.  I'm on month 3 of working out regularly.  I try to make it to the gym about 3 times a week.  Minimum of 2, on average 3, on my best week 4.  Not all that impressive I know but I figure it’s better than nothing.

I've been seeing a personal trainer throughout this time.  His name is Vince.  Good guy.  Seems to know what he's talking about and I've gotten results from working with him.  What's nice, in a masochistic sort of way, is that he tortures me at the gym in the way I need.  For example, he's the type of guy that makes me do something really tiring and painful, lets me stop and says "You know what, I'm not tired yet, how about you give me another set".  At that point I look down in pain and despair and keep going.  I’m not actually in pain or anything but during those moments when I don’t feel like I have the motivation to do it, I have someone to be accountable to which gives me that extra push I need to keep going.

I’m thankful to my roommate Ellie.  She’s a health nut and forces Jon and me to eat healthy.  Thank god b/c we both need it.  Otherwise we’d both become big fat tubs of lard.  For me it’s more of a genetic disposition.  At any rate . . . gonna go take a shower now.