Back in early April, when I was a mere novice about the ways of the gym, I had my first ever session with a personal trainer.
Becky the trainer was decent. She outlined a perfectly acceptable training regimen. She answered the questions I asked, and she was pretty hot, too.
But we didn’t click, which is unusual for me with hot, (presumably) straight girls.
For my next session, I was paired with a dude in his late twenties. At first I was unimpressed. He was shorter than me and very muscular, but from what I could see, lacked definition. A beer guzzling frat boy all grown up.
But this guy, Ryan, surprised the hell out of me. He was everything Becky was not: warm, supportive, funny, motivating. I never thought I’d be the kind of guy who responds to, “Come on guy, it’s ALL MENTAL, push it out, push it out!” But it turns out, I am.
It’s been only six sessions so far, and I can already confidently say that I couldn’t have made the gains I’ve made without his help.
All in all, I consider this gym membership money well spent. And I’m not even buff (yet).
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