The Trainer, Session 4

19 Jul

I’ll miss this series. It’s been fun to write about. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading the continuing adventure. There’s one more to go! I fear a grand finale is in the works. In the last post I said my trainer might be moving to Florida. Well, no such luck. Game back on.

Clairvoyance?

I didn’t blog session two. I didn’t want to bore you. It was relatively easy. No crying, no falling over, passing out, or puking. I liked session two. I had a theory that session two was easy because I told her I was having hamstring pain. I tested that theory out yesterday when I told her I was wrecked from my weekend run and that I hit it hard the day before. That was really, really stupid by the way.

Stupid is as stupid does. I’m too stupid to even know what that means. That Forrest Gump outwits me (and outruns me) every time. He probably would have taken it easy the day before working out with my trainer.

Either way, she saw right through my plan. That or she doesn’t care and I’m driving myself nuts with all these mind games. It’s amazing what the mind will do to avoid pain.

Pain Overdose

I’m a wimp. I like carefully controlled doses of pain on my runs. When it reaches my threshold I back off for a while. Some days I feel like pushing through that threshold and just killing it. It’s days like that make me feel all manly and invincible.

Yesterday was NOT one of those days. I wanted to loaf around and eat ice cream… maybe snuggle with my teddy bear. Yet I showed up to the gym and was promptly beaten down. Hard.

My body and I aren’t on speaking terms right now. For being in the best shape of my life I sure do a lot of limping around and having trouble getting off the couch unassisted. My kids find all the grunting and howling I do hilarious. I, however, grow weary of the presence of pain in my life.

Honesty is Dumb

One of my all-time favorite movie quotes is “Evil will always win because good is dumb.” I think Rick Moranis’ character in Spaceballs was right. Good is dumb.

So when my trainer asked me what time I had to leave I answered truthfully. And truthfully I had fun the last time we did extra-curricular training for 2.5 hours. I was having a good training day. Yesterday I was having an off-day. My trainer is a internationally known boxer. I should have stayed down.

Chug This and Get Back Up

Sometimes gels, supplements, and sports drinks can get you back in the game. I never really laced up for yesterday’s game in the first place. So I chug this amino acid concoction she gives me we launch back into another oxygen depriving circuit of exercises. First one, “Hey, put your feet up on this bar that’s four feet in the air and do pushups.” I almost puked her Amino Vital right back onto the YMCA floor as I was kissing it.

Speaking in Hushed Voices

When my trainer took a bathroom break a woman turned to me and said, “I think she’s trying to kill you.” I looked frantically around the gym before answering, “Yes, I don’t know how to make the training stop.” Then I handed her an addressed envelope containing a love note to my wife and kids just in case I didn’t make it home.

I did crumble during the last set of planks. I didn’t die, but my pride did. I think she called me a powder puff, or something of that nature. I didn’t argue.

More Proof that I’m Stoopid

During the high jumps (you start in a squat, then jump as high as you can, repeat, repeat, repeat) I asked her what to do with my hands. She’s noted that I embarrass her with my flailing hands on several occasions you see. I then said the fatal words, “What do YOU do with yours when you do this?” A lightbulb beamed in her eyes as she said she usually holds a weight in her arms. Wonderful. Good IS dumb.

That weight became my teddy bear for those sets. There was one point that she handed me a different weight than the one I’d been using and I pretended to throw it at her as I yelled, “This is not my teddy bear!” I guess you had to be there. It was funny. Even my trainer LOLed. I usually don’t joke during the sessions because I cannot breath and I fear that if I make a bad joke I’ll be punished for it.

Boxer Turned Yoga Master

The session ended. (oh that sentence was so sweet to type that I ended it early) The session ended with me doing stretches and a bunch of Yoga postures that included standing on my head for a minute. My trainer is an interesting mix of fighter and nurturing yoga instructor that specializes in diaphragmatic breathing. I imagine that her warrior poses would probably be fierce enough to make me go AWOL during a Yoga class.

None-Too-Soon

One session left. I think I’m gonna make it. If I don’t post again next week though please stop by the YMCA and check on me. These sessions have been great. If they weren’t epic I think I would be disappointed. I’m not. When they are over I’m going to reward myself with a one week nap. I’m sure my wife will be alright with that. My six-year-old will be more than happy to take my vacant parenting role for the week.

So look for the last installment of “The Trainer” series coming soon. I’ll throw in some enlightened rumination I’m sure.

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