About five or six years ago when I first started taking fitness semi-seriously (and by seriously, I mean I signed up to a basic gym membership), I had NFI what I was doing. My usual routine involved punishing myself on the treadmill for 30—45 minutes, followed by bashing out a few reps on any machine that had instructions about how to use it printed on the side. I’d usually wake up the following morning in some kind of discomfort, ranging from mild pain to full-blown agony, partially because my form was terrible, but mostly because I skipped one of the most important aspects of ...
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