As most of you know,
Less than a week ago I decided to join a gym.
Since then, I’ve been trying to mentally process how out of shape I (apparently) am.
Last week, after my first workout, my ass was so sore I could barely move.
Going up and down stairs, or for that matter sitting on a toilet, became excruciating for several days after an extremely-ass-focused workout session.
Over the weekend, I didn’t go to the gym.
I did, however, record around 20,000 steps both days on my pedometer.
Yesterday, I was back at the gym.
It was my first appointment with my “real” Trainer.
(Last week, I was treated to a “freebie” training session I received when I joined the gym.)
I don’t have a blog name yet for New Trainer, but this is what I can tell you about him so far:
• He’s enthusiastic and full of energy. (Don’t you hate people like that?)
• He’s intelligent.
• He ignored an OC woman who was shamelessly flirting with him at the gym. (Brownie points and instant respect!)
• He’s attractive in a boyish way. (He looks a lot younger than he is.)
• He’s a “baseball guy.” My family has been immersed in the baseball world (in one way or another) for years – so I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about.
• Although New Trainer doesn’t know enough about my “story” to understand my last 6+ years, he has worked with people with disabilities before. I (so far) really like the way he’s approaching my situation. He had clearly put some forethought and planning into finding things I CAN do before I even arrived. (You’d be amazed at the number of people I’ve come across since the accident who blame/guilt me for having limitations and pain.)
New Trainer informed me immediately upon my arrival I would be doing an “upper body” workout.
“I can’t,” I reminded him.
“Your other arm,” he answered.
I’m only meeting with New Trainer once each week. I realize now it’s going to take quite awhile until we make it through all my body parts.
Yesterday was “arm” day, next week will probably be legs, eventually a day will be “abs,” “ass,” etc., etc.
Ideally, he said he’d like me at the gym 5 days a week starting now.
(And yes, he was full of ideas of what I can do at the gym until our next meeting.)
Of course, I didn’t plan on joining a gym right when I did. My calendar is booked up like crazy this week and beyond.
I have no idea how I’m going to juggle things to be at the gym that much.
(And in the back of my brain, I hear the word “commitment” repeating over and over again.)
But folks, going to a gym five days a week, separate appointments for physical therapy on my arm two days a week, photography commitments, blogging commitments, a ton of family shit going on ….
Is no excuse, I know.
After having me do a multitude of arm exercises, New Trainer set me up for a cardio “interval” workout on a tall bike.
No problem, I thought.
After all, I regularly walk 4-5 miles.
I have an elliptical I use at home.
I hike, trudge through sand, and climb all sorts of obstacles on a regular basis.
I almost always exhaust everyone who walks or shoots with me because I keep going, and going, and going.
(Yes, a lot of people DO drink those high-energy drinks like Red Bull when they hang out with me.)
New Trainer informed me he’d start my interval training at an “easy” difficulty level of 10.
He explained to me how I should be pedaling at a minimum of 60+ RPM on “flat” areas and 85+ RPM on the hills.
He set me up for 30 minutes of interval cycling to “end” my workout for the day, and then moved on to his next client.
I quickly realized how damn hard it is to pedal 85+ RPM up gigantic (imaginary) hills.
By minute seven, I had lowered the difficulty level to 8.
By minute twelve it was at 6.
At 20 minutes I said, “F*ck thirty minutes,” and started my cool down.
I was DRENCHED in sweat.
In other words, I’m pretty sure I’m failing in every way.
As an added bonus, Creeper (every gym has one?) was seated accross the way, facing me, the entire time I was cycling.
He didn’t stop staring at my boobs for one milli-second.
Why, oh why, does every gym have a guy like that hanging around?
I mean, I know my girls are pretty fabulous …