Stereotypes...

The expiration of my training sessions is drawing closer and closer. It's been quite an experience, let me tell you. Full of ups and downs and experiences and knowledge. Much like life. Earth shattering comparison, I know. For my second to last training session, I'm as pumped as ever. Justin is running a little bit behind schedule, but I have no where super important to be, so I'm not bothered. And let me take this opportunity to say that Justin is amazingly punctual. This is the first time I have had to wait in my entire 16 sessions. I really appreciate a person who is respectful enough to be on time.

It ends up working for my benefit as I was a little detained doing what every body has to do at some point. At least I know I'm eating enough fiber. I take my extra time and get a full warm up in before we begin the workout. First up is a weighted squat. I've never done these before. A part of me is terrified that I'm going to collapse and be crushed by this bar that I have over my shoulders. I complete fifteen reps without much to complain about, except that my shoulders somewhat hurt from the hyperextension. I alternate with push ups.

But here's where things get a bit exciting. There is no bar involved in these push ups. No sir (or ma'am). These are on the floor girly push ups with my knees on the ground. Before we go further, yes, I understand that what I have just said is sexist. I fully believe that women can do push ups just as well as men. In fact, I complain to Justin about that fact the I'm so excited to be able to do girly push ups and he tells me that most of his male clients do them from the knees and most of his female clients do them from their toes. Slap that stereotype right in the face. It's simply a tool to describe the form that I use with my push ups. Get over it. But I do twelve of them, and it's an accomplishment that I am determined to celebrate.

Before I can finish my weighted squats, I go through two modifications so that I am as comfortable as I can be (we settle on holding a kettlebell at my sternum) while I'm doing squats. Each set of push ups is difficult, but I get it done, because I can not be stopped. After I do three sets for each, we head in to the gym for the next exercise. I'm entering the very room where I almost died the week before. And you know what I have to do? The same thing. Well, an edited version. Instead of going back and forth twice, I only have to go once. And I have 90 seconds for each time. Whatever is leftover I get to use as a break. I push that thing four times and each time I get it done in right around 15 seconds. That's 75 seconds of rest, which feels incredibly necessary.

It's very satisfying to redeem myself by succeeding at something that seemed impossible the week before. Incredibly thrilling, even. And that high remains as I do my core exercises and end with twenty solid minutes on the cross trainer. I feel successful at the end and that is a feeling that makes me want to keep going. I conquered something that was hard. I struggled but I finished. The outlook is very grim when you struggle and fail, but to finish is to keep clinging to the motivation that I have. Tomorrow I have a follow up doctor's appointment and I am excited to share my progress with my doctor. It gives me a chance to brag, which I clearly love to do.