As some of you now know, I have a complicated relationship with my “Saddlebags.” They seem happy to stick around, and I want them gone. After mustering all my courage to visit the Wellness Center last week, I had to come to terms with the fact that: a) I actually committed to at least twelve one-hour training sessions; and, b) they started this morning.
True to the friendly-no-matter-how-you-slice it persona of the place, I was met with no less than three “good mornings” as I reluctantly entered the Center. Oh, and one, “Good morning, Kelly,” from Joanna who just happened to be getting to work the same time I arrived for my session. I think she secretly staked out the parking lot and entered along with me just to make sure I didn’t turn around and run away. Effective. Verrrry effective, those tactics they employ!
I descended the stairs into the basement level workout room area thinking, “I’m not going to be able to walk back up these stairs when I’m done.” I probably had about twenty more doomsday messages ready to tell myself as I neared the door, but once again, the attendant at the desk distracted me from my fear-based mantras. “Hi,” he said. “Are you here for a session?”
I stared at him for at least two or three seconds thinking, “I could just say no. I could just say, ‘Oh – nah. Just looking around.'” I opened my mouth to answer him, still uncertain of what would come out when a young man with an air of confidence, exuding Physical Fitness walked up and interjected, “Are you Kelly?”