Me, whine? Please.

Recently, my father-in-law was in town. He is a fun grandpa. At the rate that he works out, he'll be a grandpa who keeps up with the kiddos for many more years.

In fact, all his talk about lifting weights got us motivated to start lifting weights. Tony even went as far as to say he'd meet me at the gym during the week.

That is, he said he would meet me if I promised not to whine.

Who? Me? Whine? Whatever.

He reminded me of the one time we roller-bladed together in college. Okay, so I was a bit of a wimp then. What can I say? I'm not a fan of strapping wheels on my feet and going downhill. So what if the hills aren't exactly steep.

Anyways, I rolled my eyes and assured him I wouldn't whine.

We met late in the morning. After the feat of getting the kiddos settled in childcare, I was ready.

Both of us did a bit of cardio to warm up. Then we headed upstairs to the weights.

As we walked to the machines, before we had yet to touch one. Tony told me we wouldn't be doing as many sets as he and his dad did. He went on to say we'd only do three or so.

What? I balked. I told him that is why I didn't like weights. They take too long and are so monotonous. Never mind the fact that I love the mindlessness of the treadmill.

As I was whining about how many sets we were going to do, Tony raised his eyebrows. Oh man, we hadn't even started and I was already whining.

Guess the guy knows me for better, and um, worse.

To my credit, I didn't whine once the rest of our workout. He was a fabulous trainer and I think he may just workout with me again.

Next time I'll be sure to use my big girl words so that I don't get sent to time out.