Today I met for the first time with a personal trainer. I have resigned to the fact that this belly fat isn't going to be willed away; and my slow and steady, probably won't enter a race, run/walk approach isn't working.
Because I was feeling particularly overwhelmed with my belly rolls and my new venture into meeting new people, dating even; I panicked and hired Georgia's, not one - but THREE time, Strongest Man. I ate a banana for breakfast but nothing else. Our session was at 2. I was afraid I would throw up ~ like when I didn't work out all summer and and had to show up at a pre-season basketball practice in high school. Coach Crowe or Coach Wayne; one of those sadistic; happy to see me throw up coaches (as of course we assumed of them at that age) had us running suicides and even though I could here her yelling at me I was pretty sure I just concentrated on not throwing up...ah, the loveliness of being out of shape!
When I arrived at his gym I was, surprisingly, not nervous. That has been happening a lot lately. I think it is because I am making good decisions; the right ones. Or maybe, I have just had enough of that. That choosing to not participate in life. Plus, it is only a 30 minute session. Surely to God I can take whatever this guy is gonna throw at me, for 30 minutes...?
I enter the front door, which is opened. Like a welcome mat. It reminds me of a training barn for horses, only in that the front door and the back door ~ a large warehouse type door ~ are both opened and large industrial fans are at both ends blowing away the smell of sweat, and testosterone. There is not a single apparatus that I recognize. Granted, I don't hang out in gyms; but I have seen plenty of treadmills, elliptical machines, and stationary bikes covered in coats, used as drying racks, and collecting dust in many of my friends homes. I myself have some nonsense that has been used as nothing more then a swing set for my niece and nephew over the years.
My Georgia's Strongest Man Cubed appears and he is the tallest man I have ever seen; with the exception of that bizarre guy I want out with last year that made me hike 8 miles in the Amicalola Falls Park before he would feed me. But that bizarre guy was 1/2 the width of me; GSM3 is not. He is rather large; but very engaging. So instead of being scared I feel those insanely broad shoulders are going to take me where I want to go. And I get pumped!
He starts me out on the bench press. After 3 sets of 10 of some embarrassingly light weight bar; my arms feel like your legs do after you go on a horseback ride and you haven't ridden before. My arms are wobbly and kind of doing their own thing as we move to some leg press type thing. My right leg is much stronger then my left leg. As I attempt to throw some ridiculously heavy volleyball sized ball up in the air at some unattainable X; I wonder if I walk with a limp and just never realized it. How can one leg be carrying so much of the load all this time?
There are 26 respectable sit ups; three, not so much; and one I am just sure I got away with.Then there was the machine where GSM3 said 'now, have you worked on one of these?' to which I said, 'yes, I think I have'; then proceeded to sit on it backwards. There was a rope, which he tried to claim was just like Double Dutch from Elementary School. It was not. It was a Mother of a rope!
As we wrapped things up I took a knee (sat on a bench); and we planned out our future (the next month). I had marks all over a calendar; like real plans! Something to do every Tuesday and Thursday morning. As I walked to my car, I could feel I was weak in the knees. And where I know the realities of that weakness, I chose to enjoy it the way you do when you are kissed on the pier with the stars looking on. Like, it is just a really good thing; good for you.
Then, I note that I am starving. So I go home and make a lovely, workout dinner of baked chicken and lemon butter sauteed baby kale!
Because I was feeling particularly overwhelmed with my belly rolls and my new venture into meeting new people, dating even; I panicked and hired Georgia's, not one - but THREE time, Strongest Man. I ate a banana for breakfast but nothing else. Our session was at 2. I was afraid I would throw up ~ like when I didn't work out all summer and and had to show up at a pre-season basketball practice in high school. Coach Crowe or Coach Wayne; one of those sadistic; happy to see me throw up coaches (as of course we assumed of them at that age) had us running suicides and even though I could here her yelling at me I was pretty sure I just concentrated on not throwing up...ah, the loveliness of being out of shape!
When I arrived at his gym I was, surprisingly, not nervous. That has been happening a lot lately. I think it is because I am making good decisions; the right ones. Or maybe, I have just had enough of that. That choosing to not participate in life. Plus, it is only a 30 minute session. Surely to God I can take whatever this guy is gonna throw at me, for 30 minutes...?
I enter the front door, which is opened. Like a welcome mat. It reminds me of a training barn for horses, only in that the front door and the back door ~ a large warehouse type door ~ are both opened and large industrial fans are at both ends blowing away the smell of sweat, and testosterone. There is not a single apparatus that I recognize. Granted, I don't hang out in gyms; but I have seen plenty of treadmills, elliptical machines, and stationary bikes covered in coats, used as drying racks, and collecting dust in many of my friends homes. I myself have some nonsense that has been used as nothing more then a swing set for my niece and nephew over the years.
My Georgia's Strongest Man Cubed appears and he is the tallest man I have ever seen; with the exception of that bizarre guy I want out with last year that made me hike 8 miles in the Amicalola Falls Park before he would feed me. But that bizarre guy was 1/2 the width of me; GSM3 is not. He is rather large; but very engaging. So instead of being scared I feel those insanely broad shoulders are going to take me where I want to go. And I get pumped!
He starts me out on the bench press. After 3 sets of 10 of some embarrassingly light weight bar; my arms feel like your legs do after you go on a horseback ride and you haven't ridden before. My arms are wobbly and kind of doing their own thing as we move to some leg press type thing. My right leg is much stronger then my left leg. As I attempt to throw some ridiculously heavy volleyball sized ball up in the air at some unattainable X; I wonder if I walk with a limp and just never realized it. How can one leg be carrying so much of the load all this time?
There are 26 respectable sit ups; three, not so much; and one I am just sure I got away with.Then there was the machine where GSM3 said 'now, have you worked on one of these?' to which I said, 'yes, I think I have'; then proceeded to sit on it backwards. There was a rope, which he tried to claim was just like Double Dutch from Elementary School. It was not. It was a Mother of a rope!
As we wrapped things up I took a knee (sat on a bench); and we planned out our future (the next month). I had marks all over a calendar; like real plans! Something to do every Tuesday and Thursday morning. As I walked to my car, I could feel I was weak in the knees. And where I know the realities of that weakness, I chose to enjoy it the way you do when you are kissed on the pier with the stars looking on. Like, it is just a really good thing; good for you.
Then, I note that I am starving. So I go home and make a lovely, workout dinner of baked chicken and lemon butter sauteed baby kale!
I have been starving for a while. There is no need for that. I need to start eating up this life I am given; this life I am making.
Although a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, I still salute you. Carpe Diem my friend.
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