Cardio, Chaos, and Crippling Regret

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the motivational post I scrolled past on Instagram—some chipper fitness guru beaming as she did lunges in a sunlit park. Maybe it was the way my cat looked at me that morning, as if questioning my entire life’s commitment to physical activity.

Whatever it was, I suddenly decided: Today, I will work out.

Now, let’s be clear—this was not my first attempt. I’ve had many bold beginnings in my fitness journey, all of which ended with my body filing a formal complaint. But this time, I told myself, this time will be different.

I threw on my ancient, slightly-questionable leggings, tied my sneakers like an athlete about to conquer something important, and pressed play on a workout video that promised “a fun, low-impact, beginner-friendly” routine.

I had no idea I was about to make a terrible mistake.

The First Five Minutes: Hope & Delusion

At first, things seemed fine.

The instructor smiled warmly and guided me through some easy movements. I can do this, I thought. I am strong. I am capable.

Then, without warning, things escalated.

We went from gentle toe taps to what I can only describe as aggressive jumping. Suddenly, my legs were flailing. My heart was working overtime. My lungs started to protest.

Still, I pushed forward. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Push through the discomfort? Tap into some deep well of resilience and emerge on the other side, glowing and triumphant?

That’s what I thought—until I made direct eye contact with myself in the mirror.

I looked like a woman trying to escape an invisible swarm of bees.

The Ten-Minute Mark: Full-Scale Body Rebellion

At some point—probably between the fourth squat and my second near-death experience—I realized my body was attempting a full mutiny.

My knees were creaking in ways knees should not creak.

My lungs were staging a walkout.

Sweat poured from my face like I had just walked through a car wash.

Meanwhile, the instructor, completely unfazed, chirped: “Only 45 minutes to go!”

Forty-five. More. Minutes.

I froze. I was already on the brink of collapse. My life choices were flashing before my eyes. My body was sending distress signals to the universe.

And yet, there she was—this human beacon of fitness, still smiling, still moving, as if gravity did not apply to her.

I knew in that moment: I had made a grave miscalculation.

The Moment of Truth: Tactical Retreat

I wish I could say I powered through, summoning some hidden reservoir of strength to finish the workout like a champion.

But that would be wildly inaccurate.

Instead, I did what any rational person would do—I surrendered.

Sprawled across the floor, gasping like a fish that made regrettable life choices, I whispered to the universe, “Never again.”

Above me, my cat, perched on a shelf, looked down in judgment. She had never exercised a day in her life, yet somehow, she radiated superiority.

I let my cheek press against the cool, merciful floor and accepted my fate.

The Aftermath: An Unexpected Discovery

The next morning, I woke up to find that my body had entered full shutdown mode.

Immediate symptom: My legs had turned into unresponsive noodles.

By noon: I moved like an old library book that hadn’t been opened in years.

The following evening: I was still walking like a haunted marionette.

At one point, I dropped something on the floor, and instead of picking it up, I just stared at it. It would stay there now. That was its home.

And as I shuffled stiffly around my house, I had a realization:

Maybe—just maybe—this isn’t for me.

Final Conclusion: Fitness Is a Scam, and I Will Try Again Anyway

I’d love to say that I’ve finally accepted my fate as a person who thrives in sweatpants and respects cardio from a safe distance.

But I know the truth.

In a few weeks—maybe even sooner—I’ll get inspired again.

I’ll see another fitness post. I’ll get caught up in the dream of effortless strength.

I’ll convince myself that this time will be different.

And then I’ll press play on another workout.

And within minutes, my body will remind me:

You are not built for this.

But that won’t stop me from trying.

(...Until next time.)

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