Personal Trainer, Session One.

What I recall of it anyway.

Greeting followed by conversation about what I expect & what they can offer. Go change. Intro to the elliptical and five minute 'warm-up'. Rubbery legs at third minute. Minute five comes and I make an attempt to walk to personal trainer where stretching is to begin. I made it there, but it wasn't pretty.

I'm at a computer all day, so the stretches are for those muscles that aren't stretched while sitting in a chair. Bollocks! They're the tenderizers of personal trainers intent on devouring their prey as slowly as possible.

Thirty seconds per muscle group never took so long, and I'm also already sweating enough to drip onto the mat. What the hell?

Next up, the weights. Okay, this I know I can do. Or so I thought. The lifting I had done was rhythmical (if not all that fast), but the technique learned this day was much slower; Four-count to extend, hold for two more, then return.

My mouth is parched and we're at, what, minute 8? I actually PAID for another fifty two minutes of this? I go drink a little water before the lifting & (stupidly?) come back.

First lifts are chest down on an excercise ball, lifting the weights up from the floor. Next lifts are chest up, pressing the weights, being guided on form and count. Follow that with shoulder presses, standing & pushing the weights straight up above my head, with reminders to tighten my core (which I translated to mean, "Suck in that gut boy!") and butt (huh?) to help with balance. She even had me try this one with one foot lifted. My balance ain't that good withOUT weights & a heart rate of 160-ish, so we didn't keep at that one very long. Round it out with squats, and my fingers are now tingling.

Now is when I realize exactly where I am. Not physically (that is painfully obvious, thankyouverymuch), but geographically. The gym has the main level that you walk into & where the trainers' desks are at, but then you go down a flight of stairs to the locker rooms & work-out area.

STAIRS! After squats! So we go. Up. The. Stairs. where her desk is at to go over the nutritional side of it, me trying to not hyperventilate & get rid of the tingling sensation.

I buy some crap I probably don't need, but only because I'm afraid she'll have me get on the elliptical again to "cool down". But wait! I'm still in my workout gear, and the shower is down those same stairs. Dammit! So I go down. The. Fucking. Stairs. looking like a decrepit octogenarian (who likely would have gone down and up those stairs while rightly taunting me), clinging to the rail just at the brink of falling at each step. Get to the bottom without falling and consider this a success (until I realize it took me five minutes). Strip, shower, dress, and back. Up. The. Stairs. Thank the trainer for not killing me yet, and back to work (HA!) I go.

Next session, Monday. If you don't hear from me by Tuesday, tell the police that Kara must have finished me off.