An Open Letter to My Trainer
Writer Julieanne Smolinski offers her sincerest mea culpa
- The writer, not working out
First of all: Can I call you Charles? I know that isn't your name, but I've always wanted to write someone a dramatic letter that began that way. You've been my personal trainer for several months now, and over that time, I've really begun to feel as though you were someone I would like to call Charles, at the beginning of a dramatic letter.
Secondly, I want to apologize for our recent lack of contact. I got your holiday card, with Santa bench-pressing a menorah. That was nice, and I'm referring both to the sentiment and the fact that you were so culturally inclusive. Did you know that technically, reindeer meat is paleo? Ha ha, just a little belated holiday humor for you.
OK. Look, I know. I have not been showing up to our regularly scheduled workouts.
But I have a good excuse. For one thing, work has been really busy. It used to be that I had time to pump some punishing iron with you after leaving the office, but I've been staying too late to hit the gym. Sometimes, I'm just not ready for that huge endorphin rush so close to bed, at 9 p.m. I wonder how many calories are in "the midnight oil," because you might say I've been burning it!
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