Ouch.

So today was the day.  I got up (on time, thanks to one VERY sick boy shivering and coughing which eliminated the option of falling back asleep) and went to the gym.  I WENT TO THE GYM.  (Sometimes I just have to say it a few times so that I know I actually did it...)

So I went to the gym, and I saw The Trainer.  Most trainers are excited when a currently lazy client calls up (mid panic attack) and demands multiple sessions a week and refuses to hang the phone up until enough punishment has been placed on the calender to counteract at least a few of the Christmas cookies.. However this trainer doesn't like getting up before 8am, or working past 5pm, which makes for a tricky time trying to schedule gym time around... oh you know... my JOB. 

Basically anytime The Trainer is at the gym before 10am he's doing YOU a favor and full unfiltered torture ensues.  But that's a good thing.  I need my butt kicked, and I need the torture dial turned all the way up. 

So I'm not complaining.  Not at all.  Not even complaining that my legs are already sore and walking is getting more difficult....

Which would be great except for the fact that today we did arms and abs.  How my legs got sore I'll never know, but it can't be a good sign....

and now a picture:

oh hei boyz.  mine look like that too?