Fitness...

For those of you who aren't friends with me on Facebook (am I not good enough for you?) may be unaware of an addition to this whole "Fat Person at the Gym" thing. Yesterday I started a twitter account that will be directly linked to the blog. The twitter account will have short little 140 character updates to my journey that are not significant enough to be stretched into an entire blog post. But worry not, they will be hilarious. Check it out if you have twitter and follow and retweet everything I ever do. @fatpersonthegym is the username.

I have been looking forward to my first actual paid personal training session all week and tonight my feelings have morphed into nerves. Why on earth am I nervous? Because I suddenly start to think that this might be really hard. I have some experience because I did get a free hour long session when I first joined the gym, but that was way back in September and I now worry that Justin is going to decide that I should be able to do a lot more.

First of all, that's a stupid thing to worry about. Why on earth would someone who is trained to help me get in the habit of working out give me things that are impossible for me to do. That would be the worst business decision someone could ever make. The problem is that the butterflies in my stomach don't know that they shouldn't be worried about things.

I'm supposed to arrive early enough to do between five and ten minutes on the elliptical machine as a warm up to the half hour that Justin has in store for me. Naturally I decide that means I should do twenty minutes. I want results so I'll give a little more. Plus, Best Friend Rachel is on an elliptical when I arrive so I'll use the extra time to chat.

As I'm telling Rachel about life and that I'm going to be starting my training tonight (believe it or not, she doesn't religiously follow my blog) I start to realize that there is probably a reason Justin told me to only do five or ten minutes on the elliptical. It's probably not because he doesn't want me to get great results; it's probably because he doesn't want my legs to be super tired before he has me punish them with squats and lunges and presses and whatever else you do when you workout your legs. So I stop at fifteen minutes.

Rachel and I take what feels like a final walk. I swear someone yells, "Dead man walking!" Justin is patiently waiting outside the training room with this awful smirk like he knows I'm about to hate my decision. The first thing he has me do is the squat sidesteps with the elastic band around my ankles back and forth twice. My buns are sufficiently burning by the end of those. That was a great workout. I'm ready to go.

No such luck. That took all of three of my thirty minutes. So then we start on circuits. I do 15 pushups, 20 jumping jacks, and 15 squats for three sets. Believe me, it sounds more impressive than it is. That's because I pause to ask whether or not I'm doing things properly and because I'm tired. The problem is I foolishly told Justin way back when that I would be prone to attempting to stall by looking like I was trying to make sure I was doing things right. So he just yells at me (in really a very kind and nurturing way) to stop stalling and not to stop again or he'll have me do more of them.

Water break and back to a new circuit with the rope that I hate SO much. It reminds me of when I was moderately interested in creating a wave in my sister's jump rope. You flick one end and watch it travel down the entire length of the rope. Really amusing for maybe ten seconds. Now imagine it with a thick rope, one in both hands, and you have to do it for over a minute. Maybe even two. I honestly can't remember how long I had to do it each time because I was so unhappy. This was coupled with slamming a giant ball down on the ground while doing a squat.

Thank goodness for another water break because my arms are sore and tired. We then go into the cardio room to do my final exercise of the evening. The best way I can describe this machine (or rather what it makes you do) is a seated jog. Resistance is involved and I'm supposed to go as hard and fast as I can for twenty seconds, then ten seconds slow and repeat it eight times. According to Justin, this is one of the most effective ways to burn fat. Bring it on. These boobs and this belly will be gone. 

Let me be blunt (would you expect anything less?): The whole time I was doing the half hour I was miserable. I was mad at myself for deciding to do the training and my arms hurt and my legs hurt and my abdomen hurt and occasionally I was nauseous. But I would continually subject myself to this half hour of torture because of how I feel afterwards. I feel amazing and I know that I just did something that was really great for me. A half hour of pain leads to days of feeling good about myself and that's amazing.

It's going to take me a while to get to a point where I enjoy the process as much as the product, but I know I'll get there. I just have to suck it up and stop whining like an idiot. That's why exercise has failed for me before. I gave up when it was hard. It's supposed to be hard otherwise it's not working. 

After my workout is done, we schedule our next few sessions. Measurements are happening on Tuesday and I'll be posting each and every one. So I'm going to spend the weakened psyching myself up because to post my actual weight is slightly terrifying. Also, I'll be taking my before pictures. Try not to spend days staring at my gorgeous body.