A haze clouds your vision, your chest tightens, burning as you push through the pain, and a river of sweat runs down your back.

No, you’re not having a heart attack. You’re working out!

I commend you for taking care of your body, and I’m also proud of you for having the motivation and perseverance to stick with your routine, but whenever I workout it usually goes something like this:

1. Someone (usually one of my roommates) asks me to work out with them.

2. And I try to change the subject because I don’t want to put my body through that hell.

3. But they give me puppy dog eyes and remind me that I told them to force me to go, even if I said no.

4. So I get into my cutest exercise clothes, and I feel like I can conquer this purely because I look so cute.

5. But when I get to the REX, I’m already out of breath.

6. My friend starts stretching and warming up, so I copy their moves.

7. But after five minutes, they start doing planks, and I start crying because it feels like my stomach is on fire.

8. Then the friend, who is practically glowing, looks at me and says, “Keep going. You got this!”, and I want to punch them in their sweat-free face.

9. At some point, we transition to weight lifting.

10. But my arms give out after a couple of sets.

11. And at this point I’m just lucky to be alive.

12. While my friend is working on her arms and legs, I decide to try the treadmill.

13. But I get too competitive with the person next to me and end up going too fast, too quickly.

14. And when I look at the clock, thinking that 30 minutes have passed, I realize that we’ve only been working out for 10, and a string of expletives fly out of my mouth.

14. Finally, I begin to get into some sort of rhythm, and I find the machine that works for me

15. And by the time I’m done, I forgot how much I hated working out in the first place because I feel awesome.

16. And I realize that maybe, somewhere deep, deep down, I actually kind of like working out.