I hate Chad. He is my personal trainer. We began a vigorous workout schedule last week and I've just returned from 75 minutes of pure, unfiltered, plenary hell.
They say you'll get addicted to working out after a few times. You'll love that adrenaline rush and after a week or two, you'll crave it.
I don't f#$%-ing think so.
I don't have an addictive tendency. At times in my life I've done my level best to become an alcoholic. No deal. I smoke cigars and love how they make me feel, but do I need them? No, I only smoke them now and then. Has there ever been a sleep aid, mood management or pain relief perscription that I've ever wanted to continue taking even one day longer than prescribed? Huh-uh.
So the chances of me getting addicted to adrenaline, Chad or those goddamn weight machines is next to nil. That is why I chose to do this with my friend, Dr. Mike. We are tough on each other and if either weakens or wants to give up, the other will relentlessly harrass the quitter until they are a quivering, guilt-ridden pool of organic goo.
Plus the trainer is pre-paid and I hate wasting money.