Exhausted.

I bought a three-month membership at the new gym today, having let the membership at the old gym expire at the end of February. The old gym was well equipped, and it hooked me up with my fabulous trainer, but the hard sell I got when I joined was enough to sour me on it. Plus, it seemed to focus mostly on machines, and it had only one squat rack. Often I was the only woman lifting the free weights; all the other chyx were doing cardio. Harrumph. And being on the gym floor while the hip-hop dance class was going on, with its same little hip-hop riff being played over and over and over and over and OVER again at earsplitting volume, was just a little slice of hell. Plus, since I quit the old job I had no regular reason to be in that neighbourhood anymore anyway.

So: the new gym. Smaller, less crowded, worlds more mellow. No upselling, no high-pressure "Let Us Tell You about Our Personal Training Packages." A carefully chosen set of equipment, decent music, published rates, and towel service included. It feels like a community gym rather than a corporate one. So, yay. New bullshit-free place to work out. And I actually got there today, and Mr. Krapsnart came with me. I like working out with him.

I've had to scale back so much on my workouts since I got pregnant. The biggest change is that I've been doing them only about once a week for the past month or two, as I've eased into the new job and tried to find a rhythm with my new schedule. Another big change is that I've had to decrease the weight I'd been lifting. A few months ago I was able to do three sets of eight squats at 95 pounds each; now I'm just about wiped out by three sets of eight at 45 pounds. And I've stopped deadlifting; late last year I managed to get 225 pounds off the ground (if not all the way up to the top of a deadlift). Wonder how long it'll be before I see that again.

Last Monday I put in my first full day of work, teaching for five and a half hours. I'm still not used to how much English these students know; they're at a much higher level than the ones I used to teach, and the adjustment is challenging for me. Plus, good teaching is draining even when one isn't nine weeks into her first trimester. When I got home, nearly dragging myself in on my lips, I checked my e-mail to find a note reminding me that I'm to teach a night course at my other job for the next eight Wednesdays, from 6:30 until 9:30.

If I'd been sitting at a desk I'd probably have banged my head on it. APRIL first, I'd kept telling myself. The other class doesn't start until APRIL first. But noooo, it started on March first. And one of the students works all the other nights of the week, so we can't move it. Monday and Wednesday are my five-and-a-half hour days; now Wednesdays are going to involve eight and a half hours of teaching. I asked Mr. K. to take me out back and shoot me, but he reminded me that we live in a condo and that there is no "out back". Drat his oily hide.

Good thing I don't have to be at work until 1:30pm on Thursdays.