I’ve written quite a bit about how grateful I am for my fabulous piano teacher, but today I need to give a little equal time to my personal trainer, Cory.
 
It’s a little confusing why I’m paying someone to torture me – after our first session, I literally could not walk down stairs without a sad, painful little yelp.
But I’m not being a masochist. Cory’s been a great help to me in the gym because:

• He gets me out of my rut of just mindlessly grinding away on the elliptical machine – and that makes my trips to the gym a lot more interesting
• He pushes me beyond what I’d do on my own – and I’m usually pleasantly surprised to find I can handle it
• He helps me make a commitment to the gym – since I have an appointment with him that I’ve paid for, I’m a lot less likely to slack off
• He makes me laugh

Anyone who keeps me smiling while my arms are wobbling from another set of push ups must be doing something right. Honestly, the mere fact that I can do push ups – not the wimpy girl kind I used to do, but real push ups – is all Cory.
Now if he could just duct tape my mouth shut so I’d stop shoving in more food and wine, I’d probably be losing weight from these weekly sessions.