putting the “personal” in personal training

Yesterday was my first appointment with a personal trainer. Despite working out regularly and eating better, my body just isn’t responding. Although the jury’s still out on whether it’s a biological problem, I thought I’d make an effort to naturally nip this problem in the bud.

Although my appointment was at 6, I didn’t meet with my trainer until 10 after 6 because he was still working with someone else. I tried not to let this get to me, but I was kinda pissed about waiting because I was starting to cool down from my warm up on the elliptical machine. When I cool down, I start to get lethargic.

Eventually, he came up to me and said, “You’re Liz? Oh, I thought I was working with someone else today.” So sorry to disappoint. Snippily, I said, “Yeah, I’m Liz.” After doing an initial assessment (full of embarrassing questions that I’d rather not reply to ever again in my life), he asked me what I personally wanted to work on. I told him I wanted to work on my upper body because it’s worse off than my lower body (all of my strength is in my legs for some odd reason).

We did some arm strength training exercises. One of them was the chest press machine. I sat in the contraption and the trainer was behind me toward my left. I pushed the bars forward at chest level. Upon letting go, I moved my left arm behind me and then under the bar to rest on my lap. As I moved my arm, my hand accidentally touched his package. OH MY GOD. I was so embarrassed I could die. Luckily, I was already sweaty and red-faced so my trainer couldn’t tell that I was blushing. I muttered an apology (I was still not letting go of my initial impression of snippiness). He replied, “That’s ok.” I looked up at our reflection in the mirror and could see that he was smiling. That’s probably the most action he’s had in a while, considering his surliness. For whatever reason, I let my first impression of him go and proceeded to be my usual whiny self during the rest of the session.

At the end (after my realization that my core muscles are now on strike), my trainer wrapped up the session by saying, “I don’t know if you want to see another personal trainer because I only work this late on Mondays.” In my head, I thought, I see. Now that I’ve touched your crotch we can’t have a normal trainer/trainee relationship. Instead I said, “You’re trying to get rid of me already. I’m THAT bad that you’re gonna pawn me off to one of your colleagues.” After chuckling he said, “If you want to have a session once a week that would be ok. I just want you to keep exercising.” PLEASE. I come to this gym 4 times a week. I’m not gonna stop going just because my new trainer isn’t around to see me. I replied, “Once a week is fine.”

I’m really feeling the pain of that session. My arms are killing me. That’s the price I have to pay for getting fresh with my trainer.