Is going to the gym a form of masochism?

I have been really blessed this week. My mom-in-law signed us up for a 6 month family membership to the new LA Fitness in Covington, 8 minutes from my house. She even included the childcare! I tried out the yoga classes Monday night, which was just OK. I'll probably do it once a week, but it can't compare to my old yoga teacher. She was an exceptional teacher, though, so it's probably not fair to compare the two. The gym facilities are sooo nice. The locker room is probably cleaner (and prettier, too) than my kitchen. When I get into a little better shape, I may try a spin class or a kickboxing class, but I don't want to get ahead of myself.

Today I had a free training session. I guess I was expecting him to take me around and show me the machines, etc, but it was a full-out training session. I wish I was wealthy, because I would love to have this guy as my personal trainer. There's no way I would ever push myself that hard without one. All day my legs have felt like jello, and I have a feeling tomorrow I'm going to get a taste of what it's like to be an 80-year-old trying to get out of bed in the morning. Most - and I really mean all - the trainers I've had in the past have been morons. This guy was very smart and taught me allot - he had a 4-year degree, even - imagine that! Anyway, before my training session, I walked 5k at a 1% incline, at about 3.6 on the treadmill, and it wasn't that hard. I probably wouldn't have done the whole thing, though, if I had any idea what the trainer had in store for me.