my trainer is trying to kill me

As I sit here typing this, my fingers are the only non-sore part of my body. I’m totally serious. My thighs hurt and I’m sitting.

Last night I had a late appointment with my trainer. In fact, it was so late, that I managed to stay later at work to get some stuff done and I was still able to work out for a full hour before my appointment. I did 40 minutes of cardio and 20 minutes of the arm stuff my trainer taught me.

So, by the time, I met up with L I already had a full workout. At 7 pm (our appointment time), I walked up to L and said, “I’m ready to be tortured.” I kid really. His workouts haven’t really been so bad. Knowing that I was plenty warmed up, we walk over to the same arm machine I did just 10 minutes ago. He sits down on the machine and I tell him, “Does it count if I already did this machine?” L says, “Really? Which ones have you done today?” I reply, “All of the arm stuff you taught me.” He says, “Ok then, let’s do legs.” I respond, “Let’s try something different today. I want to be challenged.” L chuckles (nothing sinister…it was almost a mocking tone). He says, “Ok, but I don’t think you’re ready for this.” Feeling challenged, I instantly thought, “Dude, I’m gonna kick ass.”

Instead it was my ass that got kicked. We did 5 exercises in all. They all involved a large ball, a small ball that weighed a ton, and a mat. I was doing all sorts of things: pulling myself up off the mat, holding the small ball while squatting, moving my legs as far up as they can go. All the while, I either needed to tighten the abs or keep my legs off the ground or (WORSE) both. By the end of the session, I could barely walk and I felt like throwing up.

Seeing as that I won’t see him next Monday (thank God for Labor Day and my trip to Blacksburg), he says, “Make sure you make an appointment in two weeks. I’ll have more tricks up my sleeve by then.” I reply, “You mean you have even more ways of torturing me?” With a hearty laugh, L says, “Lots more.”

Oh joy.

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.