I have a 10-class pass to a bootcamp that I’ve been trying to use up since June. I missed a couple weeks due to injuries and vacation. But the hardest part has been making my schedule work with my favorite teacher’s. I just like Brian best and don’t want to take the others’ classes.

My paddleboarding place doesn’t list the coach’s name on the schedule. I HATE THAT! I want to take Shannon’s class.

And for yoga? I like Mike’s classes. He “really gets in there.” And we throw blocks. How can you not love a class that starts with block tossing?

I have my favorite teachers for The Ride at Crunch, too. One in Fort Greene was especially awesome. I felt like I spent an hour at a party instead of on a stationary bike. I’d happily take a 45-minute train ride to Brooklyn and ride the subway back a sweaty mess just to see her.

I didn’t know this allegiance to one instructor was a thing, but sure enough. Well + Good NYC calls it Fitness Monogamy.

I’m the monogamous type. I like how my regular teachers know what I’m capable of and call me out if I don’t give it. That’s how I get stronger. Last week, Shannon stopped me and said, “I can tell you’re the type, like me, who won’t use 100 percent of your energy if you’re not being forced. I’m forcing you. Get out there and pick up the pace. This time, get tired. I want to see sweat!”

She was right. No one had ever told me that before. I thought I was giving it my all, but I was leaving gas in the tank. But she wouldn’t have known that, if she hadn’t seen me several times before.

On a side note, a hair stylist was once stopped in Bryant Park and offered me 80 percent off. It was tempting. Good hair-styling is expensive, and I’m not wealthy! But all I could think about was having to tell Carlos I cheated on him. I couldn’t do it. Carlos is my one and only.

Published by Candace

I’m a journalist, nutritionist, doting auntie, one-time bobsledder, and wannabe health nut (who loves chocolate and pizza too much to fully commit). I don't want you to think my life is perfect. It's not.

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