Separation Anxiety: In Which I Mourn the Loss of a Personal Trainer
A little over a year ago I decided my annual 12 weeks of physical therapy wasn't cutting it. It was time to consider a personal trainer. The idea terrified me. I pictured hyper, fit ponytailed women cheerfully shouting at me for one more set. I pictured beefy men without a brain in their heads . . . actually, that wasn't so bad. What I got was entirely different and has ruined me for all others. LaTasha Barnes is petite but strong AF. Her background includes cheerleading, the army, and competitive Lindy Hop . She has a fierce wit and a delightful knowledge of 90s pop culture. The woman contains multitudes. Even at my fittest, I never enjoyed exercise. I still don't, really. But Tasha changed my mindset with her good-natured encouragement that never condescended. (The workouts tailored for a body suffering from neurological mayhem didn't hurt either.) She encouraged me to rest when I needed to and to push a little harder when she thought I could. She helped make me str