Being My Own Trainer is Hard

The move is done, or at least, all of my stuff has physically been moved from Chicago to Ohio. A good thing about working out a lot: The “hauling heavy shit” portion of the move wasn’t all that bad. Leaving Chicago, it took me longer to pick up the U-Haul then it did to load it, and I lived on a third-floor walk-up. The store where I reserved the truck didn’t have it, but they sent me to another store, which sadly wasn’t the store where the reservation had actually been moved to and was also in the opposite direction. (When I actually picked up the truck, it had been quite thoroughly tagged, thusly:

tagged u-haul

but that didn’t really affect me.) Then it took less than an hour to haul all my stuff into my new place (which is on the ground floor and much easier.)

I still have yonks of unpacking to do, but that’s not terribly interesting or relevant to the subject of this site.

More relevant: For the immediate future, this is my gym:


There’s a rather large park adjacent to my apartment—in fact, it goes back well behind that beige building in the background, and there’s a little forest off to the right, and on the other side of that is some soccer fields, and then past those there are some… well, I don’t know exactly, but there’s some tall grass with paths through them. So the park has lots of space in which to do stuff, that’s the point.

I did my first workout today, and, while this isn’t news, being my own trainer is hard. It’s really easy to think, oh, I’m about to die, when you’re not in a group of people who are all clearly not about to die with an expert in front of you to remind you of this fact.

I did 10 stations – an exercise or sequence – and ran between them, for about a 45-minute workout, and I was cursing my own name every second of it. Admittedly, some of that is being tired from moving, and from a lot of biking around to get stuff taken care of this morning, but that doesn’t account for it all.

This move could be a tricky thing.


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