Considering I didn't make it to the gym over the weekend and neglected to do the same on Monday night (though I did do some exercise at home, including a 1.75 mile walk) I really feel the need to make up for lost work out time. Plus it's been a million and a half years since I swam (that's not even a slight exaggeration) and with all the hot weather lately, I've had a hankering to get in the pool. Side note: what the heck kind of word is 'hankering'?
I head over about forty five minutes before my scheduled training session, knowing that time will be sucked up by changing into and out of my swimsuit and what not. Apparently there's a water aerobics class that is about to start because there are old people as far as the eye can see. That and the number of available lanes have been cut down to three and I have to wait because all three are filled. I don't know if I left enough time in my schedule to wait for a lane to become available. It's made even worse by the face that one of the lanes is taken up by a man who has no business swimming because he is awful at it.
So I sit and I sulk. I've become very good at sulking, lately. I like to think it makes me look intimidating and I will maybe scare someone out of one of the lanes if I look angry enough. The problem is I can never maintain my sulkiness because a wonderful pleasant woman (after making three laps in the pool) asks if I'm waiting for a lane. I am, I reply, my scowl instantly morphing into a giant smile. She offers me her lane because all she has left to do is stretch on the stairs in the pool and her lane melds with the stairs. Thank you so much! That's so kind of you.Truthfully, I am a giant softy at heart. There's no way I can actually continue to be mean.
I should probably even take back that nasty thing I said about the gentleman who can't swim, because I didn't exactly look like an expert my first time back in the pool in several months. Eventually I find my rhythm and can at least survive. I even lap the other two that are in the pool, making me feel like an exceptionally good swimmer.
Let me tell you why swimming is annoying and why I have so much respect for swimmers. Swimming is, near as I can tell, the only form of exercise where you are actively holding your breath while you are exerting energy. In all of my now vast experience with exercise, breathing is a huge part of it. There is a rhythm to breathing in swimming, but it's not as simple as breath in during eccentric movements and exhale during concentric movements (yes, I had to look that up, so what?).
After the pool, I head to the cardio room to do my session and wait for Justin to retrieve me. We do more bench presses, and step ups (a first for my sessions) and I have to do all my hovering from the floor. During the rotation, I find myself getting into an argument with Justin about him being kind of sneaky. It all starts because he has swapped our Tuesday time to 7:00 instead of 6:30. Not a big deal, but I made an offhand comment about it and he got a little defensive. Then, when I'm doing the bench pressing he is several numbers ahead of me in reps. I only counted seven and he thinks I'm on eight. That, to me, sounds like a ploy to make me think I'm doing better than I actually am. Is this a thing? Do trainer's do this? Does he also pretend I've been planking for a minute when it's only been thirty seconds and that's why I have such a hard time planking for a full minute when I'm at home?! It's a conspiracy, similar to what happens whenever I take art classes. I always think I'm doing an amazing job when I'm in the art room, but if I take it home, it's like my talent was not aware that it was supposed to come with me.
Somehow, after our debate about this issue and me insisting that I get a full half hour I end up on Justin's "Drop-kick list" which actually exists. Go ahead and try to lift me up and drop kick me. I would be quite impressed. We end with curl presses and side hovers (which are more awful than regular hovers) and Justin challenging me to give him one full month where I go to the gym five days a week between sessions and classes. He seems to think it will be my best month ever. We'll see how that actually turns out. By the way, Thursday is a measurement day.
Showing posts with label pool. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pool. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Stabbing...
My life has been hectic and outrageously busy, lately. That may be a slight exaggeration, but it certainly has felt that way. I have had no spare time and my fitness habits have suffered. Take Sunday, for example. I just bought the new Tomb Raider game and I had to tear myself away from the TV so that I could get my workout in before I had to go to the movies (where I bought a grossly unhealthy amount of candy). I will say, however, that I had great success at the gym.
Fit Andrew and I decide that if we are going to reward ourselves with a movie that we had better punish ourselves for an unknown crime by going to the gym. My gym clothes are dirty and currently in the wash so my only option is to swim. The only horrible possibility is that I am going during family swim and there exists a strong possibility that the pool will be infested with children splashing around and laughing. Keep your joy to yourself you bratty kids. Thankfully I arrive to a near-empty pool and only have to deal with two children who don't seem to be enjoying themselves.
After my swim on Thursday I'm feeling incredibly motivated to perform well and try to shave my time down. After my one warm up lap, I shoot for intervals of 50 seconds instead of the minute I had last time. I have to say I am amazing during this swim. 50 second intervals are fine and I'm able to go consecutively from lap to lap with no periods of rest in between. My time probably fluctuates and I don't pay as close attention as I should, but I'm able to maintain exertion, which is more than I've ever been able to do.
This is what I have found (are you ready to be hit with a profound realization?): If I push past the point where I think I can't continue anymore, I can do significantly more than I would have thought possible. Eventually the laps become easy (I use that loosely. It does still require work). My body gets used to the amount of energy I need to complete each lap and I fall into a rhythm. This is truly fascinating to me. Do other people experience this too? I think of how many times I quit something because I thought I was too tired to go on and realize I probably could have kept going and been better off for it.
In no time, I swim a full half mile and it feels great to be a success. I go the rest of the day feeling skinny (which is super weird) and energetic for the week ahead. But that energy is zapped incredibly quickly because I hate daylight savings time. The next morning I wake up groggy and out of it and I feel hazy all day. The haze lingers through to the following day when I have personal training and I am not happy about it. On top of that, I lose my headphones AGAIN.
I get to the gym and warm up and when Justin finds me, I give him what I consider to be fair warning. 'I'm grumpy and I hate everything.' His response? He laughs because he's a jerk. But my animosity softens because he's actually a really nice and encouraging gentleman. Honestly, hire him as your trainer and he will make you think you're awesome. Today he teaches me deadlifts (sad that I have to be taught something that I think I should already know). I do that and the cursed rope for four sets, during which Justin tells me that I'm doing a great job with a rope that was heavier than when I first did the rope six months ago.
After my sets, we go to the cardio room and he teaches me some exercise with the dumbbells and an inclined weight bench that works my chest. I basically clapped like a dolphin or a seal with twenty-pound weights in my hands. Then he has me do thirty sit ups.
Now, I never really understood the concept of a group of muscles being on fire and I have to say I still don't. Justin makes a comment during my sit ups and if my abs aren't on fire that I'm doing something wrong. They don't feel like they are on fire. I feel like I am being stabbed repeatedly in the midsection. It's painful and not like when I touch a hot pan or something. Like literal stabbing. It's one of the worst feeling I have ever felt.
I forgo the post-strength training cardio workout, instead opting to head home and shower and spend the remainder of my night playing video games because that's how I roll. And may be why I have rolls. I'm just now making that connection. Hm. Curious.
Fit Andrew and I decide that if we are going to reward ourselves with a movie that we had better punish ourselves for an unknown crime by going to the gym. My gym clothes are dirty and currently in the wash so my only option is to swim. The only horrible possibility is that I am going during family swim and there exists a strong possibility that the pool will be infested with children splashing around and laughing. Keep your joy to yourself you bratty kids. Thankfully I arrive to a near-empty pool and only have to deal with two children who don't seem to be enjoying themselves.
After my swim on Thursday I'm feeling incredibly motivated to perform well and try to shave my time down. After my one warm up lap, I shoot for intervals of 50 seconds instead of the minute I had last time. I have to say I am amazing during this swim. 50 second intervals are fine and I'm able to go consecutively from lap to lap with no periods of rest in between. My time probably fluctuates and I don't pay as close attention as I should, but I'm able to maintain exertion, which is more than I've ever been able to do.
This is what I have found (are you ready to be hit with a profound realization?): If I push past the point where I think I can't continue anymore, I can do significantly more than I would have thought possible. Eventually the laps become easy (I use that loosely. It does still require work). My body gets used to the amount of energy I need to complete each lap and I fall into a rhythm. This is truly fascinating to me. Do other people experience this too? I think of how many times I quit something because I thought I was too tired to go on and realize I probably could have kept going and been better off for it.
In no time, I swim a full half mile and it feels great to be a success. I go the rest of the day feeling skinny (which is super weird) and energetic for the week ahead. But that energy is zapped incredibly quickly because I hate daylight savings time. The next morning I wake up groggy and out of it and I feel hazy all day. The haze lingers through to the following day when I have personal training and I am not happy about it. On top of that, I lose my headphones AGAIN.
I get to the gym and warm up and when Justin finds me, I give him what I consider to be fair warning. 'I'm grumpy and I hate everything.' His response? He laughs because he's a jerk. But my animosity softens because he's actually a really nice and encouraging gentleman. Honestly, hire him as your trainer and he will make you think you're awesome. Today he teaches me deadlifts (sad that I have to be taught something that I think I should already know). I do that and the cursed rope for four sets, during which Justin tells me that I'm doing a great job with a rope that was heavier than when I first did the rope six months ago.
After my sets, we go to the cardio room and he teaches me some exercise with the dumbbells and an inclined weight bench that works my chest. I basically clapped like a dolphin or a seal with twenty-pound weights in my hands. Then he has me do thirty sit ups.
Now, I never really understood the concept of a group of muscles being on fire and I have to say I still don't. Justin makes a comment during my sit ups and if my abs aren't on fire that I'm doing something wrong. They don't feel like they are on fire. I feel like I am being stabbed repeatedly in the midsection. It's painful and not like when I touch a hot pan or something. Like literal stabbing. It's one of the worst feeling I have ever felt.
I forgo the post-strength training cardio workout, instead opting to head home and shower and spend the remainder of my night playing video games because that's how I roll. And may be why I have rolls. I'm just now making that connection. Hm. Curious.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Social...
Thank goodness it's Friday because it has been a long week. I am so tired. Tired enough to skip the gym. But thankfully none of my friends are free and so instead of sitting home bored for the night, I decide to go to the gym. Interesting how things work out that way. But please, don't intentionally not hang out with me on a Friday because you think I won't go to the gym. Some days I'm happy to go to the gym before hang out time.
I get to the gym and the butterflies are hopping around. I have to be entirely self motivating tonight. I know I've done it before, but for some reason it seems incredibly intense tonight. Truth be told I'm not good at personal motivation. Why do you think I spent the first twenty five years of my life as a fat person? It's because I didn't have the motivation to do anything about it. Often times the only reason I complete the reps that Just has me do is because he's there yelling at me the whole time. And suddenly I find that I'm the only person responsible for myself, today.
One step at a time. The first thing I have to do is warm up and I constantly do this by myself, so why on earth would I not be able to do it this time? (I'll tell you why: it's because I can be incredibly lazy). But what do you know? Boom. I finish it. And then I move on to the thrusts. This is where I know I'm going to have a hard time forcing myself to keep going. I'm supposed to do four sets of fifteen with a minute of rest in between sets. At six, my arms are tired so I stop. But only for a few seconds.
I do nine more. And when it's time to start a new set, I force my self to do all fifteen at once. This is what determination does to you. For my third set, I stop at ten, rest for about thirty seconds, do ten more, rest for thirty seconds and end with another ten. I hope slight modifications are okay because I just modified. Like a boss.
Despite it being fairly empty, inevitably two fit people find it necessary to do their exercises next to where I am. Thanks, thanks a bunch for making me feel weak. I move on to my leg presses and then on into the weight room for chest presses. This time I have to select a bench that's next to some other guy who is also doing chest presses, only with significantly heavier weights. Congrats you can do presses with 80 pound dumbbells!
I hate feeling insecure or inadequate. Not that I know anyone who enjoys that feeling but it is a feeling that can really make it hard to keep pushing yourself. I don't want to look like I'm struggling with thirty pound dumbbells while you are doing presses with nearly three times as much weight. I do want to punch you, though, so by all means, keep doing what you're doing. But prepare to suffer the consequences.
Thankfully I have self control and don't end up spending the night in prison for aggravated assault. Instead after my reps I go to the pool for a swim. It's been a while since I've been in the pool and it appears that they want it to have a little more of a tropical feel. They now have a ton of plants and dolphin shower curtains. Fancy. I do about a half mile before I'm ready to leave. And then, because I can, I come home and go to bed at 8:45 on a Friday night. Seriously. I'm that lame.
I get to the gym and the butterflies are hopping around. I have to be entirely self motivating tonight. I know I've done it before, but for some reason it seems incredibly intense tonight. Truth be told I'm not good at personal motivation. Why do you think I spent the first twenty five years of my life as a fat person? It's because I didn't have the motivation to do anything about it. Often times the only reason I complete the reps that Just has me do is because he's there yelling at me the whole time. And suddenly I find that I'm the only person responsible for myself, today.
One step at a time. The first thing I have to do is warm up and I constantly do this by myself, so why on earth would I not be able to do it this time? (I'll tell you why: it's because I can be incredibly lazy). But what do you know? Boom. I finish it. And then I move on to the thrusts. This is where I know I'm going to have a hard time forcing myself to keep going. I'm supposed to do four sets of fifteen with a minute of rest in between sets. At six, my arms are tired so I stop. But only for a few seconds.
I do nine more. And when it's time to start a new set, I force my self to do all fifteen at once. This is what determination does to you. For my third set, I stop at ten, rest for about thirty seconds, do ten more, rest for thirty seconds and end with another ten. I hope slight modifications are okay because I just modified. Like a boss.
Despite it being fairly empty, inevitably two fit people find it necessary to do their exercises next to where I am. Thanks, thanks a bunch for making me feel weak. I move on to my leg presses and then on into the weight room for chest presses. This time I have to select a bench that's next to some other guy who is also doing chest presses, only with significantly heavier weights. Congrats you can do presses with 80 pound dumbbells!
I hate feeling insecure or inadequate. Not that I know anyone who enjoys that feeling but it is a feeling that can really make it hard to keep pushing yourself. I don't want to look like I'm struggling with thirty pound dumbbells while you are doing presses with nearly three times as much weight. I do want to punch you, though, so by all means, keep doing what you're doing. But prepare to suffer the consequences.
Thankfully I have self control and don't end up spending the night in prison for aggravated assault. Instead after my reps I go to the pool for a swim. It's been a while since I've been in the pool and it appears that they want it to have a little more of a tropical feel. They now have a ton of plants and dolphin shower curtains. Fancy. I do about a half mile before I'm ready to leave. And then, because I can, I come home and go to bed at 8:45 on a Friday night. Seriously. I'm that lame.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Drive...
After a weekend of not going to the gym (but I did go dancing) I am excited to go to the gym tonight. So excited, in fact, that I don't even wait until my usual 8:00. Instead I go at 7:00 filled with this bizarre motivation that has become increasingly more common. I'm sans any gym buddies tonight, which I consider both a positive and a negative. No one is there to distract me from my tiredness, but I also don't have to worry about maintaining a conversation instead of listening to my music. Music is pretty awesome.
It's also colder than cold tonight, so I'm happy to have the promise of an 85 degree pool waiting for me. But before the pool, I must do cardio. I'm tempted to try the treadmill and see if I'm able to do any jogging whatsoever, but I chicken out when I see that there are three other people on the treadmill who are better than me. I'm easily intimidated when it comes to cardio endurance.
I settle on an elliptical machine, slightly disappointed that my choices are so repetitive now. Shouldn't I be mixing it up for the sake of not getting my body into a habit? Oh well, I'll save that for another day. Right now the only thing between me and a tropical dip is twelve minutes on this baby. I am ready to punish myself for my slightly lazy weekend and I'm going to do it with the help of Ke$ha.
Slight shift while I talk about results: I have proof that my endurance has improved. I used to have to immediately drop resistance on the elliptical down to level 10 because my heart rate would rise too fast. Now I can leave it on the standard fifteen and even push myself with a very steady climb in heart rate and I can maintain a healthy level. This is awesome, in my opinion.
After my twelve minutes are up, I full on surprise myself. I decide to go for half an hour. Will I be content with not striving to do my best?! Hell to the no! I almost immediately regret my decision. I realize I'm getting tired and I would really like to stop. But that's the old, lazy me talking. Shut up, whiny lazy Sam. You aren't welcome here anymore.
As I tend to do when I'm on the elliptical, I glance around at the other individuals who are also on a quest for physical fitness. Some people are riding stationary bikes, a very intense looking gentleman is rowing like his life depends on it, and some silly woman is watching the Food Network while she jogs. And not just any show. She's watching Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, a show that basically features only unhealthy foods. This is foolish and let me tell you why. The whole time she's working out she's going to be thinking about food she shouldn't eat. When she goes home, she's going to be craving a burger with five strips of bacon and two kinds of cheese and you know what? She's going to have it because she'll feel like she earned it after working out. At least that's what I would do. That's why I can't watch the Food Network while at the gym and I can't go on Pinterest at work. Too many delicious looking things.
Over a mile and 20 minutes (30 minutes and 1.52 miles, in actuality) later and I step off the treadmill feeling like what I imagine Gumby felt like constantly. My legs are made of jello. But man, I feel good. Ladies and gentlemen, exercise is therapy. This is what I have discovered and I am sharing this information with you free of charge.
Like a giddy child, I lumber with purpose back to the locker room to change into my swim suit. For some reason, this 'motivation' thing follows me to the pool, and I am not content to swim like an old person (slow and leisurely (sorry to any elderly readers)) and I try to push myself. I don't take small breaks at the end of each length, and I don't slow down after my first full lap.
When you feel as strongly about making a change in your life as I do, you aren't supposed to go about it halfheartedly. I really did make a decision to change my life and not pushing myself wouldn't be fair to me. That's why I've made the decision to get some personal training sessions. Fitness is an investment in my future and I need to know what I'm doing if I'm going to be as successful as I can be.
It's also colder than cold tonight, so I'm happy to have the promise of an 85 degree pool waiting for me. But before the pool, I must do cardio. I'm tempted to try the treadmill and see if I'm able to do any jogging whatsoever, but I chicken out when I see that there are three other people on the treadmill who are better than me. I'm easily intimidated when it comes to cardio endurance.
I settle on an elliptical machine, slightly disappointed that my choices are so repetitive now. Shouldn't I be mixing it up for the sake of not getting my body into a habit? Oh well, I'll save that for another day. Right now the only thing between me and a tropical dip is twelve minutes on this baby. I am ready to punish myself for my slightly lazy weekend and I'm going to do it with the help of Ke$ha.
Slight shift while I talk about results: I have proof that my endurance has improved. I used to have to immediately drop resistance on the elliptical down to level 10 because my heart rate would rise too fast. Now I can leave it on the standard fifteen and even push myself with a very steady climb in heart rate and I can maintain a healthy level. This is awesome, in my opinion.
After my twelve minutes are up, I full on surprise myself. I decide to go for half an hour. Will I be content with not striving to do my best?! Hell to the no! I almost immediately regret my decision. I realize I'm getting tired and I would really like to stop. But that's the old, lazy me talking. Shut up, whiny lazy Sam. You aren't welcome here anymore.
As I tend to do when I'm on the elliptical, I glance around at the other individuals who are also on a quest for physical fitness. Some people are riding stationary bikes, a very intense looking gentleman is rowing like his life depends on it, and some silly woman is watching the Food Network while she jogs. And not just any show. She's watching Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, a show that basically features only unhealthy foods. This is foolish and let me tell you why. The whole time she's working out she's going to be thinking about food she shouldn't eat. When she goes home, she's going to be craving a burger with five strips of bacon and two kinds of cheese and you know what? She's going to have it because she'll feel like she earned it after working out. At least that's what I would do. That's why I can't watch the Food Network while at the gym and I can't go on Pinterest at work. Too many delicious looking things.
Over a mile and 20 minutes (30 minutes and 1.52 miles, in actuality) later and I step off the treadmill feeling like what I imagine Gumby felt like constantly. My legs are made of jello. But man, I feel good. Ladies and gentlemen, exercise is therapy. This is what I have discovered and I am sharing this information with you free of charge.
Like a giddy child, I lumber with purpose back to the locker room to change into my swim suit. For some reason, this 'motivation' thing follows me to the pool, and I am not content to swim like an old person (slow and leisurely (sorry to any elderly readers)) and I try to push myself. I don't take small breaks at the end of each length, and I don't slow down after my first full lap.
When you feel as strongly about making a change in your life as I do, you aren't supposed to go about it halfheartedly. I really did make a decision to change my life and not pushing myself wouldn't be fair to me. That's why I've made the decision to get some personal training sessions. Fitness is an investment in my future and I need to know what I'm doing if I'm going to be as successful as I can be.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Relaxation...
I should really just stop trusting people. I make a plan to go to yoga at the gym this morning because I think it will be a great way to start my Sunday. My coworker Megan tells me about how she used to go all the time and had a really good time and it was really easy. Great. I don't really feel like going crazy hard today, anyway.
I show up at the gym and it's a mostly older crowd. How hard can this really be if people who could be my grandma can do it? Plus, I've done some yoga at home so I assume I'm going to be amazing. Not the case, ladies and gentlemen. The class starts out normal enough with some gentle stretching, nothing too crazy going on, but we very rapidly move into territory that I am so unfamiliar with that I'm tempted to fake a low blood sugar so I can excuse myself with what looks like an actual reason.
One particular women who is among the oldest in the class is the most flexible woman I have ever seen. One of the stretches we are supposed to do involves reaching one hand behind our backs and grasping our other hand that is coming from in between our legs. Yeah, not gonna happen.
And then there's the planking. That awful planking where we are supposed to lift one hand and lift a foot and bake a casserole all while in a plank position. It's a good day if I can do a plank on my knees for thirty seconds and this teacher is asking me to do something that I can only liken to throwing a football fifty yards after mere hours of training. And truth be told, I don't know if that's an accurate representation because I know next to nothing about football. Is that even difficult?
The point is, this yoga workout is really hard. And my hamstrings are super tight from who knows what. This is honestly going to be the hardest thing about working out for me. The idea that it will always be hard if you're truly challenging yourself. You should never be doing something without breaking a sweat. The same exact workout may be easier, but if you want results, you have to increase the difficulty.
After class is over, I give Megan a piece of my mind, but I do it very kindly with some sarcasm thrown in there because, truth be told, I feel awesome. My muscles are awake and I feel limber and flexible. So I decide I'm going to go for a swim. Tragically I forgot my goggles when I left this morning so I edit my swim down to a quarter mile given the circumstances.
I show up at the gym and it's a mostly older crowd. How hard can this really be if people who could be my grandma can do it? Plus, I've done some yoga at home so I assume I'm going to be amazing. Not the case, ladies and gentlemen. The class starts out normal enough with some gentle stretching, nothing too crazy going on, but we very rapidly move into territory that I am so unfamiliar with that I'm tempted to fake a low blood sugar so I can excuse myself with what looks like an actual reason.
One particular women who is among the oldest in the class is the most flexible woman I have ever seen. One of the stretches we are supposed to do involves reaching one hand behind our backs and grasping our other hand that is coming from in between our legs. Yeah, not gonna happen.
And then there's the planking. That awful planking where we are supposed to lift one hand and lift a foot and bake a casserole all while in a plank position. It's a good day if I can do a plank on my knees for thirty seconds and this teacher is asking me to do something that I can only liken to throwing a football fifty yards after mere hours of training. And truth be told, I don't know if that's an accurate representation because I know next to nothing about football. Is that even difficult?
The point is, this yoga workout is really hard. And my hamstrings are super tight from who knows what. This is honestly going to be the hardest thing about working out for me. The idea that it will always be hard if you're truly challenging yourself. You should never be doing something without breaking a sweat. The same exact workout may be easier, but if you want results, you have to increase the difficulty.
After class is over, I give Megan a piece of my mind, but I do it very kindly with some sarcasm thrown in there because, truth be told, I feel awesome. My muscles are awake and I feel limber and flexible. So I decide I'm going to go for a swim. Tragically I forgot my goggles when I left this morning so I edit my swim down to a quarter mile given the circumstances.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Two...
Father in heaven I need to get caught up. So this post is combining Sunday and Monday. Hopefully all of you devoted readers are smart enough to figure that out.
After my depressing journey to the gym last Sunday only to find that the gym was closed, I'm determined to actually get a workout in. So I wake up and run some errands, one of which includes buying a new swimsuit because my old swimsuit has ripped and I'm not in the business of exposing myself. The problem? Target isn't carrying swimsuits currently. That means I have to go over to Dick's Sporting Goods and pay a whopping $30 for a swimsuit (on-sale from $45). But I look at it as a swimsuit that will be lasting me for a while, which helps me stomach the price.
I head to the gym and go right for the pool. Surprisingly, there are people in the pool. I would have thought that people would be out shopping for supplies in case this whole Sandy thing actually hits us. Oh well, at least my regular lane is open. I hop in and start with my standard half-mile swim.
Really nothing exciting happens. Some guy comes in about halfway through my swim and pick the lane next to me. This guy is ridiculous. He does one length of basically every style of swimming there is. And the problem is, he's not good at them. So he's flopping all over the place, splashing me and churning the waters, making it hard for me to swim in a straight line. This guy is almost worse than the children. Though it is kind of amusing. And in a weird way, inspiring. He just keeps going.
After a brief steam and a conversation with a brave man who is headed to Market Basket, I head home. When I get there, I realize I have forgotten to ask if the gym will even be open tomorrow. Sandy has closed my office for tomorrow, so it stands to reason that she could mess up my chance to do Zumba tomorrow. But when I call, the guy says classes are planned to go as scheduled. Hurricanes can't stop fitness.
(Passage of time...)
So I wake up jazzed cause it's a Monday and I don't have work. Thank you nature. This three day weekend is awesome. I putz around the house for most of the morning before going out to lunch with Fit Andrew to China Buffet (aka Heaven). I've always had a weakness for buffets. It combines my two favorite things: eating until I have to unbutton my pants and chinese food. And it's been a really long time since I've gone to China Buffet.
I find that there has been a change in me that is combination depressing and exciting. While I used to be able to pack away two and a half plates no problem, I find myself feeling full after not even a full plate. I mean that's awesome because I'm used to smaller portions, but I am a tiny bit sad that I can't eat as much.
But that's a really weird thing to be sad about and perfectly explains the problem I've had my entire life. It's not like it doesn't taste as good if I don't eat a ton of it. I just like the idea of eating. It's fun. It's what I used to do when I was bored because it passed the time.
After my meal, I head over to a friend's house and we watch some movies while the storm rages on. And by 'rages on' I mean the wind occasionally blows strong and it drizzles. Sandy's really not turning into much. I also find out that all classes have been cancelled by the storm. Screw you, Sandy! This will be five days in a row at the gym and I am going! So I drive over to the gym.
CJ is at the desk when I arrive and he informs me that they're closing at 6:00 tonight. So be it. 15 minutes on the weights is better than nothing at all. And I make those fifteen minutes count. Thank goodness the gym is back to the normal schedule tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Invasion...
This post is super back dated. But deal with it. I was prepping for a hurricane.
For the first time in my entire life, I go to the gym on a Friday night. I spent most of the day focusing on the fact that I had no plans for the weekend and so I decided I would just suck it up and go. I show up and plan on just doing some swimming. I do have plans to go to a movie later, but for now, I really want to get the exercise on because I missed Wednesday.
Upon my arrival, I'm bummed because there are other people in the pool. I hate when people are in my pool. And I'm more pissed when people are in my lane like this weirdo is today. Reluctantly, I enter the pool and use the middle lane.
I'm feeling pretty ambitious today, so I decide to try for another half mile in the pool. I don't know what my personal record for swimming distance is, but I'm guessing a half mile is it. I swam across a lake at camp when I was a kid, but they didn't really tell me how far that was. They had safety kayaks to rescue people, if need be, but there was no way I was going to do that. I was a fat kid and I probably would have capsized the kayak had I actually needed to be rescued. So I stuck it out and swam the whole way across. I remember feeling really proud of myself.
Much like I feel proud of my six laps of freestyle that I complete in a very rhythmic manner, swallowing water only twice. As I swap to the kickboard, I glance over at the other lane. This guy has just been doing lap after lap and shows no sign of slowing down. Good for you, dude. But keep it to yourself. You keep flinging water into my face with each stroke and it's really getting annoying. Plus you're in my lane and I already kind of hate you and don't more of a reason to pelt you with a pool noodle.
Halfway through my kickboard laps, worst thing in the world happens. A gaggle of children burst in to the pool room yelling and screaming and then begin leaping in to the pool. Hell to the no. This is my Friday night and I am not letting twenty six-year-olds ruin my swim. They're splashing everywhere and causing choppy waters and I end up choking several times as I do my backstroke laps. I hate children.
After my swim and some relaxing time in the steam room (which is a mandated child-free zone thank goodness) I head upstairs and complain to Carla. I come to find out that once a month on Fridays it's Kid's Night. Whoever came up with this idea should be fired. Carla tells me her son is going trick-or-treating dressed as a ninja turtle so I tell her she should go as April. She likes that idea. Just call me costume planner from now on.
For the first time in my entire life, I go to the gym on a Friday night. I spent most of the day focusing on the fact that I had no plans for the weekend and so I decided I would just suck it up and go. I show up and plan on just doing some swimming. I do have plans to go to a movie later, but for now, I really want to get the exercise on because I missed Wednesday.
Upon my arrival, I'm bummed because there are other people in the pool. I hate when people are in my pool. And I'm more pissed when people are in my lane like this weirdo is today. Reluctantly, I enter the pool and use the middle lane.
I'm feeling pretty ambitious today, so I decide to try for another half mile in the pool. I don't know what my personal record for swimming distance is, but I'm guessing a half mile is it. I swam across a lake at camp when I was a kid, but they didn't really tell me how far that was. They had safety kayaks to rescue people, if need be, but there was no way I was going to do that. I was a fat kid and I probably would have capsized the kayak had I actually needed to be rescued. So I stuck it out and swam the whole way across. I remember feeling really proud of myself.
Much like I feel proud of my six laps of freestyle that I complete in a very rhythmic manner, swallowing water only twice. As I swap to the kickboard, I glance over at the other lane. This guy has just been doing lap after lap and shows no sign of slowing down. Good for you, dude. But keep it to yourself. You keep flinging water into my face with each stroke and it's really getting annoying. Plus you're in my lane and I already kind of hate you and don't more of a reason to pelt you with a pool noodle.
Halfway through my kickboard laps, worst thing in the world happens. A gaggle of children burst in to the pool room yelling and screaming and then begin leaping in to the pool. Hell to the no. This is my Friday night and I am not letting twenty six-year-olds ruin my swim. They're splashing everywhere and causing choppy waters and I end up choking several times as I do my backstroke laps. I hate children.
After my swim and some relaxing time in the steam room (which is a mandated child-free zone thank goodness) I head upstairs and complain to Carla. I come to find out that once a month on Fridays it's Kid's Night. Whoever came up with this idea should be fired. Carla tells me her son is going trick-or-treating dressed as a ninja turtle so I tell her she should go as April. She likes that idea. Just call me costume planner from now on.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Band-Aid...
Ladies and gentlemen, I am amazing. Today after work, I go home and spend a little bit of time watching TV and have a little dinner before I meet my friend Grant at the gym. I know I still have my calf injury, but I'm determined to not let it slow my progress. I spend most of my time after work stretching and massaging my calf anyway, so I don't expect there to be a problem.
Taylor is at the front desk when I come in. So she and I chat for a bit before Grant shows up. She asks if I'm going to a class tonight and I say no because of my injury and whatnot. But she tells me I should still go because the classes are for all fitness levels. Thanks, Taylor, but I've already got a plan for tonight and a spontaneous class doesn't fit in. Plus, I have to be home in time to watch the season premiere of Happy Endings.
Grant FINALLY shows up and we head downstairs to do some cardio. He opts of a treadmill, I choose a bike. I would have done an elliptical, but everything was taken and I didn't feel like throwing my weight around (both in the sense of actual size and the fact that I am the most important member of the gym) and forcing someone off of their machine. Plus, I haven't done the bike in a while and my calf prefers it when I'm sitting.
After just over 15 minutes on the bike (I decided to go for 3 miles because I was so close) I head to the weight room. I do a couple of arm and back and chest exercises. Grant meanders in after his time on the treadmill and we briefly comment on all the mirrors and the tendency people have to ogle themselves. People need to stop doing that. It makes me want to kick them.
Off to the pool where I do a couple of laps of each. Justin pops in and asks if I did the foam rollers he recommended for my calf. I said I was planning on doing it after and he said I was supposed to do it before and after. Whoops. He also calls me out for the band-aid I have placed at the top of my lane. It fell off and I didn't feel like getting out of the pool simply to throw it away. I can do that when I'm done swimming.
Grant and I head for the steam room, which I'm strangely looking forward to, simply because I'm convinced it will fix my muscle issue. I set the timer for about five minutes. It is definitely easier to stay in the steam room when someone is there to talk with you. I get distracted and hardly focus on the fact that I am slowly dying of oxygen deprivation.
About a minute before our time is up, 2 other gentlemen come in to the steam room. Two or even three people is okay in the steam room. Four makes me feel a little claustrophobic. Plus one of the guys says, "You guys weren't in the pool for very long." No. We weren't. But who are you, anyway? Not everyone can swim two miles after working out on both a bike and on weights. Shut your mouth.
On my way out of the gym, I have Fun Taylor make me a smoothie and tell her she has to watch Happy Endings. We're practically best friends already.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Twice...
My plan is to go to Pilates after work so I pack up all my workout gear and head to work. Pilates doesn't start until 5:30, but I prefer to be prepared in case something comes up. But, I get all the way to work and realize that I have left my mat at home. Not the end of the world because they have mats at the gym, but still, totally not ideal.
I've also made plans to workout with another friend after Pilates around 8 o'clock. So in theory, I'll be going to the gym twice in one day. IN. ONE. DAY. Yeah, crazy I know, but apparently I can't get enough. The gym is like drugs. The only thing I've been this obsessed about is cookie dough, and heavens knows that was not a healthy habit. I'm addicted to fitness.
Work ends and I drive home. And I get home around 4:50. That leaves me forty minutes until Pilates starts. Holy crap I think I planned ahead too much. I have to now waste time at home before I go. So, I check my email, read Yahoo news, amuse myself with reddit and squeeze in (or out) a last minute poop. Then I grab my mat and head to Pilates.
I meet Megan at the gym but I have to run downstairs and change and when I come back up, everyone is already in the room with spots chosen so I have to plant myself in the worst possible location: smack dab in front of the door. Thank goodness everyone walking past is going to be able to look in and see my chubby self sweating and struggling through this class.
It's another new teacher, today. But Beth is great because she's kind of self deprecating and brings great humor to the class. She also starts off by giving everyone permission to rest when they need to, which makes me feel reassured. I'm still embarrassed to drop a pose simply because my muscles aren't strong enough, but I shouldn't expect to be really great at Pilates after only four classes.
After class, I change and on my way out I run into Justin. We chat for a few minutes and he chastises me for using the calf machine because I'm working out one of the smallest muscles in my body. My response is that I have no idea what I'm doing. And then he drops a pearl of wisdom. "There are two types of people that need personal trainers: those with the motivation who have no idea what to do, and those who know what to do but have no motivation." So if you are one of those types of people, join a gym and get a personal trainer.
I say goodbye to Carla and tell her that I might be back later tonight. At home I relax on the couch and watch TV, deciding I will not be going back to the gym. But my last episode of Don't Trust the B in Apartment 23 ends right at 8:00 and so I force myself to return to the gym and hit the pool.
I'm bound and determined to swim at least half a mile, tonight. I check the info board on my way in to see how many lengths of the pool I have to do. 1 mile is 82 lengths of the pool, so that means I have to do 41 lengths to reach my goal of half a mile. I do 12 lengths of freestyle, 10 using the kick board, 10 of backstroke, 6 more of freestyle, 2 more with the kickboard, and finally 2 more of backstroke. Essentially I feel like jelly when I'm done.
I chill in the steam room for a good 6 minutes (progress!) where I meet a very interesting individual who used to be a body-builder, but an injury forced him to stop training and he's just started coming back to the gym. I prefer silence when I'm in the presence of strangers in a steam room, but if you feel the need to talk, more power to you.
I've also made plans to workout with another friend after Pilates around 8 o'clock. So in theory, I'll be going to the gym twice in one day. IN. ONE. DAY. Yeah, crazy I know, but apparently I can't get enough. The gym is like drugs. The only thing I've been this obsessed about is cookie dough, and heavens knows that was not a healthy habit. I'm addicted to fitness.
Work ends and I drive home. And I get home around 4:50. That leaves me forty minutes until Pilates starts. Holy crap I think I planned ahead too much. I have to now waste time at home before I go. So, I check my email, read Yahoo news, amuse myself with reddit and squeeze in (or out) a last minute poop. Then I grab my mat and head to Pilates.
I meet Megan at the gym but I have to run downstairs and change and when I come back up, everyone is already in the room with spots chosen so I have to plant myself in the worst possible location: smack dab in front of the door. Thank goodness everyone walking past is going to be able to look in and see my chubby self sweating and struggling through this class.
It's another new teacher, today. But Beth is great because she's kind of self deprecating and brings great humor to the class. She also starts off by giving everyone permission to rest when they need to, which makes me feel reassured. I'm still embarrassed to drop a pose simply because my muscles aren't strong enough, but I shouldn't expect to be really great at Pilates after only four classes.
After class, I change and on my way out I run into Justin. We chat for a few minutes and he chastises me for using the calf machine because I'm working out one of the smallest muscles in my body. My response is that I have no idea what I'm doing. And then he drops a pearl of wisdom. "There are two types of people that need personal trainers: those with the motivation who have no idea what to do, and those who know what to do but have no motivation." So if you are one of those types of people, join a gym and get a personal trainer.
I say goodbye to Carla and tell her that I might be back later tonight. At home I relax on the couch and watch TV, deciding I will not be going back to the gym. But my last episode of Don't Trust the B in Apartment 23 ends right at 8:00 and so I force myself to return to the gym and hit the pool.
I'm bound and determined to swim at least half a mile, tonight. I check the info board on my way in to see how many lengths of the pool I have to do. 1 mile is 82 lengths of the pool, so that means I have to do 41 lengths to reach my goal of half a mile. I do 12 lengths of freestyle, 10 using the kick board, 10 of backstroke, 6 more of freestyle, 2 more with the kickboard, and finally 2 more of backstroke. Essentially I feel like jelly when I'm done.
Yes, yes I am.
I chill in the steam room for a good 6 minutes (progress!) where I meet a very interesting individual who used to be a body-builder, but an injury forced him to stop training and he's just started coming back to the gym. I prefer silence when I'm in the presence of strangers in a steam room, but if you feel the need to talk, more power to you.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Referral...
Today at work, I do a full plank for 30 seconds. Two of them, in fact. On the floor on my toes for a minute, total. I'm amazing. I literally couldn't do that a week ago. So see, everyone? Exercising works!
After my incredibly victorious day at work, I come home and find out that Fit Andrew would like to come to the gym, as well. I'm always excited when other people are interested in trying out my gym. I love even a slight prospect at getting five bucks off my monthly membership fee. Andrew has a little trouble locating his other tennis shoe while getting ready, but after I dramatically search and happen to find it, we're off.
Crap on a stick, Carla isn't at the desk tonight. Oh well, I'll save my greeting for another day. We come in and get set up with a visitor's pass for Andrew and then head down to the cardio room. We make for the elliptical machines. I work out for fifteen minutes next to Fit Andrew, saying a silent prayer asking God to please make him fall off or at least stumble. But no, he just takes off and doesn't ever stop. I, on the other hand, sweat and burn and in an event that I can only describe as magic, drop my iPod off of the machine and it rips my headphones out of my ears. So I do my last 4 minutes without it.
After I finish my fifteen minutes and awkwardly reach for my iPod without getting smacked in the face by Andrew's elliptical, I move on to the weight room. It's a leg day, and leg days are rough. I start on the calf machine, which I have now mastered. In fact, I'm pretty sure people are watching me to figure out how I do it and do it while looking amazing. On to thighs, then hamstrings, then glutes, because I want a nice butt.
Then Andrew and I decide we will do some swimming. Skinny Matt happens to be at the gym, too, and after quick introductions and talk about the earthquake that happened (yes, earthquake) Andrew and I head to the pool.
It is in the pool where I get to feel physically superior to Andrew. Now don't get me wrong, he's a good swimmer, but when it comes to using a boogie board and just kicking, I win. Small victory, I know, but a victory nonetheless.
After swimming, it's adventure time. Once again, I attempt to use the steam room. I'm feeling a little braver because I'll have company and therefore conversation to distract me from my suffocating. And Matt also happens to be in there and offers the advice of grabbing a cup of ice water before heading in. I only stay in for about 5 minutes, but it's a comfortable five minutes and I could have stayed longer if I wanted. Is it easier to use the steam room if you're more in-shape?
On my way out, I make a point to introduce myself to the woman at the front desk. After all, she was very helpful with Andrew's visitor's pass. Her name is Taylor and she is so pleasant. I'm telling you, it's these wonderful employees of the gym that make it so easy to keep coming back. It's almost like they're my friends or something weird like that.
After my incredibly victorious day at work, I come home and find out that Fit Andrew would like to come to the gym, as well. I'm always excited when other people are interested in trying out my gym. I love even a slight prospect at getting five bucks off my monthly membership fee. Andrew has a little trouble locating his other tennis shoe while getting ready, but after I dramatically search and happen to find it, we're off.
Crap on a stick, Carla isn't at the desk tonight. Oh well, I'll save my greeting for another day. We come in and get set up with a visitor's pass for Andrew and then head down to the cardio room. We make for the elliptical machines. I work out for fifteen minutes next to Fit Andrew, saying a silent prayer asking God to please make him fall off or at least stumble. But no, he just takes off and doesn't ever stop. I, on the other hand, sweat and burn and in an event that I can only describe as magic, drop my iPod off of the machine and it rips my headphones out of my ears. So I do my last 4 minutes without it.
After I finish my fifteen minutes and awkwardly reach for my iPod without getting smacked in the face by Andrew's elliptical, I move on to the weight room. It's a leg day, and leg days are rough. I start on the calf machine, which I have now mastered. In fact, I'm pretty sure people are watching me to figure out how I do it and do it while looking amazing. On to thighs, then hamstrings, then glutes, because I want a nice butt.
Then Andrew and I decide we will do some swimming. Skinny Matt happens to be at the gym, too, and after quick introductions and talk about the earthquake that happened (yes, earthquake) Andrew and I head to the pool.
Seriously, it was about this dramatic
It is in the pool where I get to feel physically superior to Andrew. Now don't get me wrong, he's a good swimmer, but when it comes to using a boogie board and just kicking, I win. Small victory, I know, but a victory nonetheless.
After swimming, it's adventure time. Once again, I attempt to use the steam room. I'm feeling a little braver because I'll have company and therefore conversation to distract me from my suffocating. And Matt also happens to be in there and offers the advice of grabbing a cup of ice water before heading in. I only stay in for about 5 minutes, but it's a comfortable five minutes and I could have stayed longer if I wanted. Is it easier to use the steam room if you're more in-shape?
On my way out, I make a point to introduce myself to the woman at the front desk. After all, she was very helpful with Andrew's visitor's pass. Her name is Taylor and she is so pleasant. I'm telling you, it's these wonderful employees of the gym that make it so easy to keep coming back. It's almost like they're my friends or something weird like that.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Inches...
I've been getting lazy with my juicing and have been eating more meals, which is depressing considering I only have a week left and should be able to suck it up and stick it out. So at work, I insist on planking for a full minute again. And I do 20 lunges for the 10 pieces of mail we get. And I do some glute squeezing just for the heck of it. Hey, every little bit helps, right?
So I get home from work and have made plans to do some cleaning in preparation for the arrival of my parents on Friday. It's some rough cleaning. There's a lot to be done. I work up a little bit of a sweat, but not enough to consider it a full workout. After cleaning, I do yoga for twenty minutes. As I continue to do it, I notice my ability has increased quite a bit. Poses that I used to struggle to hold, I don't have to worry about. Make no mistake, it's still hard, but I have more energy to commit to the difficult stuff instead of wasting it on the stuff that should be easy.
By the end, I'm good and sweaty; a feeling I've come to enjoy. I pack my gym bag (thanks Trusty Target Bag) and head to the gym for a dip in the pool. I arrive at the gym and change into my swimsuit. I decide I'm avoiding the weight room and doing lower impact things because I have a session with a personal trainer tomorrow and I'm sure to get my butt kicked.
I do a total of 30 lengths of the pool, which I don't think is even half a mile. I can't help but feel sad and pathetic, like the plants that are placed throughout the pool area. My arms burn and my legs burn and I think I may not have the strength to lift my head out of the water each and every time I submerge myself. At the conclusion of my swim, I once again thank the powers that be that I was the only person in the pool because the last thing I need is to feel like someone is watching me.
So I get home from work and have made plans to do some cleaning in preparation for the arrival of my parents on Friday. It's some rough cleaning. There's a lot to be done. I work up a little bit of a sweat, but not enough to consider it a full workout. After cleaning, I do yoga for twenty minutes. As I continue to do it, I notice my ability has increased quite a bit. Poses that I used to struggle to hold, I don't have to worry about. Make no mistake, it's still hard, but I have more energy to commit to the difficult stuff instead of wasting it on the stuff that should be easy.
By the end, I'm good and sweaty; a feeling I've come to enjoy. I pack my gym bag (thanks Trusty Target Bag) and head to the gym for a dip in the pool. I arrive at the gym and change into my swimsuit. I decide I'm avoiding the weight room and doing lower impact things because I have a session with a personal trainer tomorrow and I'm sure to get my butt kicked.
I do a total of 30 lengths of the pool, which I don't think is even half a mile. I can't help but feel sad and pathetic, like the plants that are placed throughout the pool area. My arms burn and my legs burn and I think I may not have the strength to lift my head out of the water each and every time I submerge myself. At the conclusion of my swim, I once again thank the powers that be that I was the only person in the pool because the last thing I need is to feel like someone is watching me.
Honestly, could a living thing look more depressed?
I do go into the steam room, again. This time I have the power to set the timer myself. I settle on 6 minutes, thinking I'll perform better when there is an ultimate and finite goal. I go inside and sit down and feel pretty bad-ass as the steam starts to full the room. 'This vapor form of water ain't got nothin' on me,' I think to myself in the most humble of internal narratives. I last a good while, too. I'm not sure at what point things head south, but I am suddenly aware of needing to constantly blink and I can't decide if I can't see because of the steam or if it's because I'm going to pass out. I decide to play it safe and leave. As I exit, I glance at the timer. I was 30 seconds away from my goal. So close.
I have noticed some physical change since this whole journey began. I have more space in the legs of my jeans. What a coworker once described as skinny jeans are fairly baggy in the leg. I have actual shoulder muscles and notice a difference between flexing and not flexing. I'm really glad I started this and I'm really excited to finish it. Plus, wouldn't it be kind of awesome if at the end of my journey I decided to become a personal trainer?
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Suicide...
After work I go out to dinner with two very dear friends. While we are stuffing our faces with bread rolls and pasta, I attempt to convince them to join my gym, or at least check it out. After surprisingly little effort, I convince them that it's worth it to accompany me tonight and see how they like it.
Upon our arrival, Skinny Matt is standing behind the counter. "I brought friends tonight!" Maybe I sound a little too cheerful when I practically shout my statement at Matt, but I make no apologies for my behavior, so he can deal with it. A very nice woman helps both Megan and Charlotte fill out their guest information. I head down to change while they get things sorted out. When I emerge from the dressing room, Skinny Matt has already started giving the spiel (it's the right spelling, trust me, I looked it up) about joining the gym to Megan. I can almost taste the reduced membership fee.
We go down to the cardio room to start, and that is where I make the biggest mistake of my life: Charlotte and I get on the elliptical machine. I know within a minute and a half that this is bad. My thighs are burning. To top it all off, I'm on an elliptical machine that is right next to one of the exercise bikes that has a 'contest' component. It is this very bike where my good friend CJ decides he's going to be working out. It's bad enough that that I'm on a machine that will surely put me on the front page of the newspaper with a 'Fat Guy Dies on Elliptical Machine' headline, but to have to think about spending twenty minutes next to someone who may talk my ear off the whole time adds almost too much stress.
Surprisingly, CJ doesn't say a thing to me during my fifteen minutes of death on the elliptical. Yeah, I cut it down from twenty. Get over it. I am dripping sweat the entire time and my thighs burn like I just climbed all 1,860 steps of the Empire State Building. I wipe off the machine and wait for Megan to finish her biking when CJ decides to start up a conversation about how he's seen me here a lot. I comment on how it's really just an obligation and he says 'But you passed the hardest step: showing up'. That's going on my quote board.
Megan and I head to the weight room, while Charlotte decides to be lame and use the 'Women's Only' equipment room. I focus on arms, today, but not before I try the calf machine one final time. Miracle of miracles, it works. I literally do nothing differently, but I guess the universe thinks I deserve a win.
At this point, I want to go home. I'm tired and sweaty, but these lovely ladies I have brought with me decide that they want to try the pool before we go. So I swim ON TOP of everything else I've done this evening. By the end, I can't feel my body and can only assume I have left my physical body and will soon be ascending into heaven. Not the case.
I decide to try the steam room, again. I walk in and realize that there are two other guys in the room, but I can't see them, because of all the steam. I head towards the edge of the bench and pray that I am not about to sit on one of them. Thankfully, I make contact with the tiled bench. I can still only stay about 4 minutes of torture before I have to leave and sit in the sauna for 10 minutes.
On the way out of the gym Megan decides she's going to sign up for a membership. I not only get my five bucks off, but I also get a free t-shirt, because Matt is awesome.
Upon our arrival, Skinny Matt is standing behind the counter. "I brought friends tonight!" Maybe I sound a little too cheerful when I practically shout my statement at Matt, but I make no apologies for my behavior, so he can deal with it. A very nice woman helps both Megan and Charlotte fill out their guest information. I head down to change while they get things sorted out. When I emerge from the dressing room, Skinny Matt has already started giving the spiel (it's the right spelling, trust me, I looked it up) about joining the gym to Megan. I can almost taste the reduced membership fee.
We go down to the cardio room to start, and that is where I make the biggest mistake of my life: Charlotte and I get on the elliptical machine. I know within a minute and a half that this is bad. My thighs are burning. To top it all off, I'm on an elliptical machine that is right next to one of the exercise bikes that has a 'contest' component. It is this very bike where my good friend CJ decides he's going to be working out. It's bad enough that that I'm on a machine that will surely put me on the front page of the newspaper with a 'Fat Guy Dies on Elliptical Machine' headline, but to have to think about spending twenty minutes next to someone who may talk my ear off the whole time adds almost too much stress.
Surprisingly, CJ doesn't say a thing to me during my fifteen minutes of death on the elliptical. Yeah, I cut it down from twenty. Get over it. I am dripping sweat the entire time and my thighs burn like I just climbed all 1,860 steps of the Empire State Building. I wipe off the machine and wait for Megan to finish her biking when CJ decides to start up a conversation about how he's seen me here a lot. I comment on how it's really just an obligation and he says 'But you passed the hardest step: showing up'. That's going on my quote board.
I also look like this during my workouts, only with significantly more sweat
Megan and I head to the weight room, while Charlotte decides to be lame and use the 'Women's Only' equipment room. I focus on arms, today, but not before I try the calf machine one final time. Miracle of miracles, it works. I literally do nothing differently, but I guess the universe thinks I deserve a win.
At this point, I want to go home. I'm tired and sweaty, but these lovely ladies I have brought with me decide that they want to try the pool before we go. So I swim ON TOP of everything else I've done this evening. By the end, I can't feel my body and can only assume I have left my physical body and will soon be ascending into heaven. Not the case.
I decide to try the steam room, again. I walk in and realize that there are two other guys in the room, but I can't see them, because of all the steam. I head towards the edge of the bench and pray that I am not about to sit on one of them. Thankfully, I make contact with the tiled bench. I can still only stay about 4 minutes of torture before I have to leave and sit in the sauna for 10 minutes.
On the way out of the gym Megan decides she's going to sign up for a membership. I not only get my five bucks off, but I also get a free t-shirt, because Matt is awesome.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Sweat...
Today when I go to the gym, I once again begin in the weight room. Because it's legs, I decide I'm going to conquer the calf machine. Unfortunately, I fail miserably. No matter what I do, the thing stays locked in place. I even watched someone use it yesterday and it looked really easy, but I have no success as I pull locks and push levers. Anyone want to help me out with this?! The machine looks like this:
I will defeat you one day, Satan Machine
I also forgot to wipe down a machine today. So I'm pretty sure I'm going to get a phone call and be told that I am no longer welcome at the establishment.
After working my gluteus maximus, I go back to the locker room. On my way, I pass CJ. 'Don't even think about speaking to me,' I think to myself. He must be a mind reader because he doesn't even look at me. Then, I change into my bathing suit for another night in the pool. Thankfully, I am able to enter the water without falling on my soon-to-be-toned buns of steel. I also remember to bring goggles so that I can swim without looking like a total idiot. I do several laps freestyle, with just my legs, and using just my arms. I feel a lot better today than I did yesterday.
But this is why I hate swimming. It defies all logic that I should be sweating doing something in which I am submerged in water. I simply can not fathom how this can happen. And don't be the loser who tries to explain why I still sweat even in water. I will unfriend you on facebook and not feel badly about it.
I swim for half an hour then head back to the locker room to shower and change. But curiosity gets the better of me and I decide to explore the shower area. Not only are there showers in there, but there is a hot tub, a sauna, and a steam room. This is the best gym ever.
I decide to start with the familiar territory of the sauna. These used to terrify me as a kid because it was always difficult for me to breathe in them. Thankfully, with age comes experience and I can say, with confidence, I have triumphed over my fear of saunas. I sit in the sauna for about 10 minutes, then exit, for fear that I may fall asleep and be slow-cooked to perfection.
I decide to be adventurous and try the steam room and suddenly realize that I have replaced my fear of saunas with the fear of steam rooms.
I expected something calm and relaxing, like this. Instead, I almost died.
All of my senses are assaulted at once and I think I may be having a stroke. It smells like medicine, I feel hot and sticky, there is a steady hissing noise (also reawakening my fear of snakes), and my vision goes blurry from an inability to see anything through all the steam. Like a mature adult, I force myself to sit in the steam room for a full 4 minutes before my fear takes control and I have to leave.
Moral of the story, steam rooms are kind of scary and be very careful when searching for images of 'steam room' online.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Swim...
So I get to the gym today and decide to start in the weight room. There is a woman in the weight room, today. The first woman I've ever seen in the weight room, minus that gentleman's eye candy from last week. This one is actually on machines. In fact, on the calf raise machine, which I could not, for the life of me, figure out. Add that to the list of things that have made me feel stupid since I joined the gym.
I'm intimidated away from working on legs, and decide to do more curls with my dinky 15 pound weights. The sad thing is I feel like I'm working really hard to do 3 sets of 10 reps with these things and this guy standing three feet away is doing curls with 40 pound weights and I swear he's been going steady for about 2 minutes. I'm tempted to throw a five pound weight at him, but I resist because I don't think I'd be able to get it that far after my 30 total reps.
I also do some tricep workouts and work my back. Then, I decide to do some calves, but I'm not using a machine to do it. I just stand and raise up on to my tiptoes and back down again. Like a very rudimentary ballet. Except I guarantee you I do not look graceful as I do this. I almost fall on my face a minimum of 8 times.
Once I'm done with that, I head back to the locker room because tonight is the night I venture into the pool. The gym keeps touting their saltwater pool and I kind of feel obligated to try it out. Now, as a fat person who is male, I avoid taking my shirt off at all costs. I wore t-shirts in the pool as a kid and claimed it was because I didn't want to get sunburned. False. I didn't want to be arrested for indecent exposure.
Thankfully, every time I go to the gym at night, the pool is empty. Doubly good, because I slip and fall as I go down the steps into the pool and nearly drown. Talk about embarrassing. I decide to start by swimming simple freestyle laps. After the first two, my speed decreases tremendously. Holy crap. I had no idea I was this out of shape. I imagine I must look pretty comical; as uncoordinated as ever. I'm glad there's no life guard on duty because it would be embarrassing a) to drown in a pool that is 4 1/2 feet deep, at most, and b) to explain that I am in fact not drowning, I'm just swimming.
I then do some laps with the pool noodles, using just my legs. It's the most intense leg workout I've experienced and I am as exhausted as ever when I finish. Then I swim on my back using just my arms for a couple laps, to really work them. When I'm done, I'm exhausted. I take a quick shower and head home, happy to not have to exert anymore energy.
I'm intimidated away from working on legs, and decide to do more curls with my dinky 15 pound weights. The sad thing is I feel like I'm working really hard to do 3 sets of 10 reps with these things and this guy standing three feet away is doing curls with 40 pound weights and I swear he's been going steady for about 2 minutes. I'm tempted to throw a five pound weight at him, but I resist because I don't think I'd be able to get it that far after my 30 total reps.
I also do some tricep workouts and work my back. Then, I decide to do some calves, but I'm not using a machine to do it. I just stand and raise up on to my tiptoes and back down again. Like a very rudimentary ballet. Except I guarantee you I do not look graceful as I do this. I almost fall on my face a minimum of 8 times.
Once I'm done with that, I head back to the locker room because tonight is the night I venture into the pool. The gym keeps touting their saltwater pool and I kind of feel obligated to try it out. Now, as a fat person who is male, I avoid taking my shirt off at all costs. I wore t-shirts in the pool as a kid and claimed it was because I didn't want to get sunburned. False. I didn't want to be arrested for indecent exposure.
Thankfully, every time I go to the gym at night, the pool is empty. Doubly good, because I slip and fall as I go down the steps into the pool and nearly drown. Talk about embarrassing. I decide to start by swimming simple freestyle laps. After the first two, my speed decreases tremendously. Holy crap. I had no idea I was this out of shape. I imagine I must look pretty comical; as uncoordinated as ever. I'm glad there's no life guard on duty because it would be embarrassing a) to drown in a pool that is 4 1/2 feet deep, at most, and b) to explain that I am in fact not drowning, I'm just swimming.
I then do some laps with the pool noodles, using just my legs. It's the most intense leg workout I've experienced and I am as exhausted as ever when I finish. Then I swim on my back using just my arms for a couple laps, to really work them. When I'm done, I'm exhausted. I take a quick shower and head home, happy to not have to exert anymore energy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)