Yoda is brutal. Seriously. I really think he's making me pay physically for all the months I was lazy.
So far I've worked out with him twice - an hour on Monday and half an hour yesterday. Just an hour and a half of workouts.
How am I??
SORE. Seriously. Even sitting down hurts.
We're picking up where we left off, so that mean a 10 pound weight in each hand as I step up onto a bench. It means perfect form and 3 sets of everything. It means doing my reps at an optimal rate instead of slowly.
And it means that he doesn't let me slack off. If I'm slowing down or whining about the weight, he tells me to suck it up.
Yesterday in the half hour workout, I think I said "I hate you" to him at least 15 times - at least, I THOUGHT it. I'm pretty sure that I didn't have the breath to actually say it.
At first I was annoyed. I mean, I've been away from the workout circuit for over 5 months. He should understand that and let me do lower weights and less reps. He should be giving me a break.
But after the workout last night while I was showering my poor, screaming muscles I realized that I had already been giving myself a break. For five months I did that. I made excuses for why I couldn't work out. I said I'd "start tomorrow" instead of today. I ate whatever I wanted and I stopped weighing myself, counting calories, and fitting in fitness.
I've had my break.
My muscles remember these workouts. They remember how to lift things and what way they're supposed to move. I know how to use the machines and how much weight I should be able to do on each. I know what foods are good for me and which ones are only good for fat and sugar and gaining weight.
I've had enough of a break. I need discipline. I need hard work. I need to fit into a wedding dress in 3 months and not hate myself for not working hard enough.
So now I'm glad he's not giving me a break. I'm glad he's pushing me and making me sweat harder. Sweat is the InnerFatGirl crying, right?
In other news, here's a photo!