by James Jester

Created on: May 18, 2009   Last Updated: July 14, 2009

You know what they say, "two is a party," and well...one is never any fun. I recently started working out when I was a freshmen in college after I noticed that the majority of my classmates were in shape and the threat of the dreaded "freshmen 15" was an impending threat upon my, already large, 230 pound physique. It was a gradual progression to a steady work-out regime, and i hated every second of it. Many times I would decide to go to the gym "tomorrow", and when it came I would tell my self the same thing. Eventually a week would pass and I would get so frustrated with myself that I would force my body to walk from my dorm to the on-campus gym. The walk involved me thinking silently about how bad I was going to hate the approaching experience and how everyone there was going to look so much better than me. Then, one day, I made a friend who loved to work-out. I would always see her in the gym and she would always come talk to me about what my plans were for my work-out. I would just sigh and say something along the lines of, "oh, I dunno...maybe a little cardio, maybe some weights, blah!" This was always followed by a few chuckles and the question as to why I hated working out o much. One day she called me up and asked if I wanted to come work-out with her, and i said yes even though I really would have rather sat on my couch eating junk food. I arrived at the gym and met up with my friend who then informed me that we were going to try out a class called "40/20" meaning 40 minutes of cardio and 20 minutes of weights and abs. Let me just go ahead and tell you that I was sure I was going to die and risk embarrassing myself in front of about 30 people I didn't know. We walked into the large room and gathered our equipment, then we chose a spot amongst the large crowd of women; I was the only guy, which only added to the awkwardness. If I passed out in front of 30 women, I'm almost sure it would have traumatized me, forever! Then an Amazonesque instructor walked in, who couldn't have weighed more than 110 pounds, screaming, "ALRIGHT GUYS, LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!" I glanced at my friend who smiled and said, "this is gonna be intense just so you know." My heart sank a little deeper into my chest and my nerves increased. As the warm-up started I was surprisingly involved whole-heartedly in the carefully choreographed steps. New terms like, high-knees, skiiers, skater lunges and a smorgosbourge of other foreign words creeped into my brain leaving an unconscious

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