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I had just finished writing the first draft of an essay when the Gunnar Challenge landed in my inbox. I had been writing about giving up my need to lose the "last five pounds," about accepting my body the way it was, about loving that little pooch in my mid-range.
It's not like I'm in terrible shape, but no one would mistake me for an aging-well-Sports Illustrated bathing suit model. I'm over 40 and 5'1" tall. I really need all the help I can get, and Gunnar was convincing. All motivating and celebrity-trainer like. Fine.
I recruited a couple of girlfriends to take the challenge with me. My friends were thrilled because, unlike me, they actually knew who this Gunnar stud was and were convinced we'd all be hot bodied DWTS look-alikes by the end of the 8-week fitness program. I'm not so sure. I warned them that I might wimp out. Or rather, I might decide this program really isn't for me after all. But I would most definitely make an effort. I really do need to switch things up a bit, and it is lake season.
So here we go. I'll keep you posted, but not in that annoying, super excited, I'm-totally-into-working-out way. Because I've been there and done that. It was called the 90s and I was so all about step-aerobics that for a tiny slice in time I actually taught it.
This time around, no matter what happens, I promise not to wear a thong leotard over bike pants. Not in neon, anyway.
The Gunnar Challenge begins Monday, May 21st. Will you join me? We can always wimp out together if we have to. But we won't. Because we're tough. Or something like that.
Stay tuned for my next post: What was I thinking?