Good news: I've been going to the gym almost every morning. I actually enjoy heading to the gym when I'm at home: it's the small, unimportant things—flat screen TVs, good music, dark wood paneling, friendly staff members, fresh cut flowers, the café, generous locker space, the squash court gallery, 7 am yoga classes—that make me want to spend time there. I also realize that these things spoil me and make most other facilities, including Yale's, look like something between a hospital wing and a prison.
Incidentally, my parents want me to start a regimen with my brother's personal trainer. They also want me to eat more protein. And do two-a-days. And more squash with the padre. And pilates with Mother. (I don't think any of these are very likely to happen, except for squash. Maybe the protein, but I'm also planning to give up beef for the summer.)
Yes, my family takes fitness very seriously.
