Let me introduce you to my new dysfunctional relationship.
Yes, it's with a machine, one called the StairMaster, and I'm here to tell you that something nonhuman can send you into a world of emotional highs and lows all within the span of 20 minutes.
I hate you StairMaster. Well, but I kind of love you too.
This machine (pictured above) has become a part of my weekly training schedule. Supposedly (and this is based off brief conversations with my gym's meatheads) the StairMaster is the best cardio machine at LA Fitness, one that will get you "shredded," as one guy in a tank top told me.
That's cool I guess, getting ripped would be nice. But I'm on this stupid machine because it's the best simulation of hiking trails.
Only problem is you are going up the entire time, which is brutal.
As sweat drips from my forehead at about minute eight, I begin to curse at the machine, saying under my breath how much I loathe it. But once I'm back on the trails and the steps come a little easier, I sing the StairMaster's praises.
So I guess I'll keep visiting this machine and maybe as my training continues and I get more strength I'll begin to feel more affectionate toward this big pile of metal. Right now though our relationship is pretty dicey.
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