As a 25-year-old male whose joints regularly pop loud enough to startle my roommate, I feel like I am the best source of advice for all things fitness related. Not to brag, but I’ve eaten veggies three times this week and I can usually get off the couch on the first try. So yeah, you could pretty much say I’m a personal trainer. I know how it feels to think you’ve lost a step and that your most athletic days are behind you. You see pictures of yourself at 20 with four more abs and one less chin and you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever look like that again. Well, I’m here to tell you – you definitely won’t. However, if you follow my precise post grad exercise plan, I can tell you that you won’t actively repulse members of the opposite sex when they see you naked. Just follow this weekly routine.
This is going to be the hardest day to get your fat ass to the gym, but it’s also the day you need it most. Yes, you’re hungover and all you want to do is go home and watch a subpar NFL game, but you know why you’re hungover? It’s because you drank 10,000 calories worth of booze this weekend and chased it down with 3 a.m. pizza every night. Suck it up and hit the gym. Don’t even look at the free weight section; walk right over to the treadmill and fire that puppy up. That’s right – 15 minutes of walking at a 10 percent elevation should start burning those calories. You don’t want to strain anything. After that, crank out one nine-minute mile, become genuinely concerned for your well-being when your heart starts hurting your chest, and gingerly walk over to the elliptical to round out a slow 40-minutes of “I guess you could call it that” cardio. Feel free to watch ESPN on the gym TV and marvel at kids five years your junior that could literally jump over you. Go home and force yourself to eat some carb-less meal that you hate.
Now we’re talking. You woke up on time (one snooze, you’re not a robot), and cranked out a pretty productive day at the office. Maybe you even got a “good job” from the bossman. Ride that wave right into the gym and onto the stationary bike. After 25 minutes, realize how much work biking is compared to how few calories you’re burning, and decide to hit the weight room instead. Set of curls? Crush it. Bench press? Not a problem. You’re Arnold in his prime, baby. You’ll take a small setback when you attempt to squat your college weight and feel something pop in your back. Make sure to use the rest of your gym time alternating between long stretches and Googling “slipped disc symptoms,” and “chiropractor near me.”
So your back is a throbbing mess and you’re walking like Quasimodo. That’s no reason to give up on your new fitness plan. Square your shoulders (as best you can with your new hunchback) and walk into your gym, breeze by the front desk, and directly to the sauna. That’s the stuff. A nice 30-minute steam will have you healed up soon. Isn’t this practically what Adrian Peterson did to come back from his ACL tear? You guys are in about the same shape. You’ll be back in no time. Use this newfound head of steam (pun intended) to jump on the elliptical and do some low-intensity cardio. Briefly contemplate doing abs before promising yourself you’ll have a salad for dinner instead. Forgot that promise within literal seconds and go home and eat an entire family-sized Stouffer’s lasagna yourself.
Shit. You completely forgot it was your friend’s birthday dinner tonight. You know, the expensive, 12-person dinner on her actual birthday that predates the Friday “birthday night out,” and the Saturday “birthday dinner/party.” You like your friend and you want her to have a good birthday, but you’re not spending $400 and three consecutive nights on it. Knowing you’ll bail on Friday and Saturday, you have no choice but to go tonight. You promise you’ll leave right after dinner and do a late gym sesh to work off those calories, but you’ll end up going out and ingesting six vodka-sodas (#FitLife) and getting home at 1 o’clock in the morning.
You wake up with a throbbing headache and a puffy face. You hate your life and tell yourself there’s no way you’re making the gym after work. You’re not doing anything after 5 p.m. except putting on your comfiest sweatpants and passing out on your couch. Yeah right. By 4 p.m. you’ve fought your hangover to a draw, and the group chat is lighting up with plans for the night. Turns out your buddy’s old college hookup is in town with her girls and they want to party. Guess who just got the motivation for the gym they needed? Nothing will get you into an LA Fitness faster than the thought of an attractive girl being visibly disappointed by your pasty body. You Google “high-intensity workout” on the train, and by the time you get to the gym, you’re convinced you’ll have your beach bod back within an hour. There’s no time for cardio, it’s all about the glamour muscles. Biceps, triceps, chest, and shoulders. You’re going to get so laid tonight.
You didn’t get laid. You blacked out, went home, and ate 24 frozen Taquitos. You decide to go on a run to try and get some of the calories/shame out of your body. That run turns into a jog after two blocks, and into a slow walk after another two. Panting and disgusted in yourself, you raise your head and realize you’re outside of a McDonald’s. “Fuck fitness,” you audibly mutter to yourself, causing the mother walking by you to move her kids away from you as you walk past her to get your McMuffin on.
You think I would advocate working out on the holiest of days? Sunday is a day to rest (in the booth of your favorite bar) and reflect (on how bad your fantasy team is). You’ll start working on that six pack on Monday. .
Image via Shutterstock