Wuss vs Master of the Universe

One of the reasons Agi and I bought this particular condo here in Budapest is its proximity to a great gym called "Sportmax."  (Try pronouncing it like Arnold Swarzenegger would for full effect.)   It's the nicest gym I've belonged to--it's got great equipment, the pump-you-up hip hop music is not too loud or soft and since I go in the early afternoon several times a week (my favorite time to exercise) it's hardly ever crowded.
What I wanted to note here is the inevitable pattern--every time--of feeling serious resistance to going and then experiencing extreme triumph at the end of the workout (which is usually running on the treadmill and weights).  My body and mind overreacts in both situations: it shouldn't be that big of a deal to go work out, but I typically don't "feel" like doing it.  But once I'm there--and especially when I'm done--there must be some kind of serious chemical reaction that goes on because I feel like I can do anything, just bring it on.  Who needs drugs when you have Sportmax?

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