Since I started writing this column, I’ve had many friends offer to work out with me. However, I have a secret: I already have a pretty solid workout partner. My boyfriend, Thomas, is a personal trainer. And I am a jealous chubby girlfriend. One of the reasons I’m trying to get in shape is so I don’t embarrass him around his clients. There’s an issue with having a built-in workout buddy. I don’t like working out with people.
Before transferring to UCI, I decided that I wanted to see if I could ride my bike to school. Thomas’ parents live so close that I figured instead of paying for a parking pass I would park my car at their house and ride my bike down Culver.
Thomas offered to ride bikes with me, so I placed the route we would take in his hands. He decided that we were going to go behind the freeway on this bike trail in the middle of nature. It started out pretty well. We had a little trouble getting the seat of my bike at the right height; mainly because I had received the bike I was riding as a present when I was 10. We got the seat right, we put air in his tires and we were on our way.
I should have known it was going to be a rough ride when my water bottle fell out of my oddly shaped water bottle holder and, while attempting to pick it up and put it back, I nearly fell in the middle of the street.
We finally got on the trail and I was reminded how much I hate nature. I felt like an idiot next to those people wearing their spandex with their feet clipped into their bike. I was uncomfortable, my butt hurt and I was sweaty.
We finally got to the school and I was so mad that Thomas made me take this twisted route that I started yelling, loudly. When I sat back down, I sat directly on the rock hard bike seat. This only added to my anger. Thomas finally agreed that we should take the straight road home, which I had politely suggested from the beginning. It was faster, less hills and less people.
While we were on our way home it finally clicked in my brain why I don’t like working out with other people. Thomas was up ahead of me, showing off, riding with no hands and no feet and paying little attention to me wobbling behind him.
I tend to do activities like this with people who are better than me at said activities. I don’t like looking silly or as if I don’t know what I’m doing. I think I need to find someone chubbier than me, slower than me or less smart than I am. That way I can enjoy being good at something.
In the end, I ended up shelling out the money for a parking pass and my bike is still in my parents’ garage. So much for saving money and losing weight that way.