This choice: Meanwhile, Cheyenne is killing it at the gym. • Go Back... Cheyenne’s trainer had always told her that there are two kinds of people in every gym, with two wholly unique approaches to how they view exercise.
Some people would never come around to exercise as a way of recreation. No matter how many times they did it, no matter how “easy” it became for them, they would never truly see things like going to the gym and waking up early to go jogging around the block as things that passed for “fun”. It wasn’t that they weren’t capable, but rather that they viewed exercise as a sort of routine preventative maintenance. This first gym-goer would always face an uphill battle when it came to personal fitness, no matter how proficient they may be.
The second type of person was the exact opposite, and viewed exercise as a way to have fun. These kinds of people weren’t inherently more capable than anyone else, they just had a passion inside of them for getting their bodies moving. These people believed firmly in things like getting pumped and reaching past thresholds, even if they weren’t necessarily good at being athletic. These are the types of gym-goers who would gladly wake up early (or stay up late) and get in their exercise should their schedules allow it.
And as much as Cheyenne liked to tell herself that she was the latter, even her trainer had known her to be the former.
Even after years of using an elliptical, she still felt the burn in her thighs and arms. Her head swam with thoughts that pulled her off to one side of the machine, subconsciously lassoing her away from her goal. Learning how to deal with these thoughts had been the first step in her losing weight, but accepting that they were always going to be there to tempt her away from her goal was something that she feared she would never get used to.
“Come on Cheye, just two more minutes!”
“Fuck…fuckfuckfuck…”
She had been sweating buckets for the past forty-five minutes. Cardio days were always the hardest for her. Strength days weren’t exactly easy, but at least she could stop and take a breather. She had Riley to spot for her and help her out if she ever felt like she was in over her head. But running on the treadmill, the elliptical, the Stairmaster… Cheyenne knew that no one could make her run, but sometimes she wished that her contract had come with a Cattle Prod clause to help keep her motivated.
Maybe if they waved a donut on a stick in front of your face you’d do it, huh fatty?
Grumbling at her inner critic, Cheyenne mustered forward.
“One minute and thirty seconds, and you can get off this thing!”
These minutes were the hardest in her life, even after all of these months slimming down. The last five minutes of every workout were agonizing. The final minute may as well have been a year. But Riley keeping her motivated by telling her how much time had passed was a good start towards keeping herself from getting lost staring at the digital clock that was still dewy with her sweat.
“Fifty-seven seconds, Cheye—come on, you gotta want it!”
“I… want… it…”
“You gotta want it, Big Girl!”
“I… want… it!”
She cheated a little, stealing a glance at the clock. She wasn’t supposed to (at least, according to her own rules) but sometimes it had helped. Fifty-two seconds now, and fifty-one. Fifty. According to the purple and black display on the head of the elliptical, she’d burned just over nine hundred calories since she got on this damn thing. Her whole body ached and begged her to stop. She knew that she was reaching her plateau. The last minute was always the hardest.
She decided to kick ahead—digging deep into her reserve of energy in order to power through the last measly forty-seven seconds that separated her from being done for the day. The last forty-five seconds that were keeping her from rewarding herself with whatever she’d told herself that she’d use her cheat day on. An extra smoothie from the fridge. A Caramel Frappuccino from Starbucks. A fucking Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese, no pickles no onions—
“Thirty seconds, Cheye come on!”
“Fuck…fuh…ckk…”
Cheyenne gripped the bars hard and dug her nails into the black padding. She shut her eyes tight and started kicking like crazy. Fuck her form, fuck all of the things that Riley had been bugging her about. All she wanted was to be off of this stupid machine and away from this gym and in her tub at home with a goddamn milkshake and two thick patties of all-American beef that dribbled grease into the bathwater while she wolfed the whole goddamn fucking thing down—
“Fifteen seconds, don’t quit on me now!”
Come on fatty, just fifteen more seconds!
She cheated a little more this time. Pushing up on the bars so as to take the pressure off of her heels and ankles. It was a little thing, but she didn’t think that Riley would notice. It was just for the last thirteen seconds. Ten seconds. Eight seconds.
“Kick, kick, kick!”
“Um… tryin…”
Five… four… three… two… one…
The machine’s beep beep beep was the sweetest sound that she had ever heard. Three times a week for the past fifteen months and she had never gotten tired of hearing those little chimes that announced, with flashing orange numbers, that she was finally finished for the day.
Her limp legs struggled to acquiesce to the ground, ready to roll her ankle. She’d done it before and, if it hadn’t been for Riley holding her steady, she might have done it again.
“Great job today, Cheye.” She said with a firm hard slap on her client’s hot, sweaty back, “You know how many calories you burned today?”
“Fuck… a… billion?”
“Good guess.” Riley rolled her eyes, glancing down at her tablet with a proud smile on her face, “Fifteen hundred, so you were close.”
“That’s… a lot…” Cheyenne puffed, bracing herself on the smaller woman’s shoulder as she held herself steady, “Water. Gimme water.”
“You’ve earned it.” Riley beamed, handing over a faded and worn Planet Fitness bottle, “I gotta ask—what’d you think about to get through those last few minutes? You looked like you were really struggling there for a while, but your eyebrows did that thing.”
“That… thing?”
“Yeah, the thing.” Riley did her best to furrow her tight trimmed and waxed brow into a facsimile of what Cheyenne’s had done, “You only get that look on your face when you’re really pissed.”
In that moment, she had almost wanted to tell her trainer the truth. That she had been thinking about fucking cheeseburgers. The fact that she’d wanted one for about a month but hadn’t worked up the nerve to pull into the McDonalds drive-thru on her cheat day. The phantom taste of her regular order had lingered on her taste buds even now.
“My roommate and me…” Cheyenne lied, “We… had another fight... few days ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” Riley clicked her tongue, “This is Avery, right?”
“Yeah, she’s… kind of a bitch.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” Riley put a firm hand on her shoulder, “But you know, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. Okay?”
“Yeah.” Cheyenne nodded in agony of her burning lungs and needled muscles, “I got it.”
“Do you… wanna talk about it now?” Riley ventured with an inquisitive eyebrow, “My next client cancelled on me, so I’ve got at least an hour.”
“Sorry, I can’t. I’m… actually meeting her to talk about everything.” Cheyenne grimaced, “Gotta shower off.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty ripe.” Riley joked, “Just… hey, don’t forget. You’ve all been friends for a long time. But don’t forget that you’vegotta come first sometimes. Okay?”
Cheyenne smiled. A genuine one that distracted her from the aching pain in her… everywhere.
“Yeah, I know.” She said with a slap of Riley’s defined biceps, “Thanks, coach.”
“Any time.” Riley smiled back, “Now go wash up. I wasn’t kidding about you being ripe.”  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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