I've made it to the gym.
I've made it to the gym twice this week.
Which is a bit of a miracle, but it is also a start.
I've also seen Cleo, but after around eight years of being our trainer, tomorrow is our last session with her as she's moving to Spain on Sunday. We've been seeing her at another studio in the next suburb for the last few years. We're going to miss her. She's been a great trainer and a good friend, however, we'll be seeing her online as she'll train us once a week from home while she settles into life in Barcelona (lucky cow)
Last night I did around half an hour of weights.
Tonight, half an hour of gentle cardio.
It's a start.
It felt good.
Hopefully the anxiety I've been feeling when I think about Pump class will abate soon. It's the noise and the crowded room I don't want to face.
As with everything, baby steps.
I don't want to write any more tonight. Nothing to say.
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