Time for the Trainer

Apparently the power walking mama's were too busy power walking to come to the nine o'clock class this morning.  And the AARP set were more content to be down the hall playing pinochle.  


"Herb, it is your bid," Harold says.


"Herb!" says Harold.


"Yeah, yeah, I hear you.   I was just thinking there was some place I was supposed to be.  I bid 250.  Darn, it is right on the tip of my brain.  Florence was saying something the other day about something she signed me up for," says Herb.


"You won the bid.  Are we playing cards or what?" Stan chimes in.


"I can't imagine being anywhere other than here. Hmmm?"  says Herb. 


"You want me to get you some Ex-lax to speed things up, Herb? says Stan.


"Hearts it is," says Herb


Alas my class was cancelled.  What does I guy have to do around here to get in shape?


I decided to take things into my own hands and went to the fitness center.  You sure can get a kink in your neck staring up at the T.V. watching MSNBC while strolling on the treadmill.  I also found it was hard to read the captioning with Patrick Simmons of the Doobie Brothers singing: 


Well, I built me a raft and she's ready for floatin'
Ol' Mississippi, she's callin' my name
Catfish are jumpin'

That paddle wheel thumpin'
Black water keeps rollin' on past just the same

through my Blackberry earphones.  I love that song.  Very appropriate for the Grand River Expedition too.

Thirty-five minutes later I'm off the treadmill and on to something else.  One thing I noticed about the fitness center.  There are a lot of fit people working out here.  Hmmm.

There it is, old faithful, the bench press.  There was a time when I could load a four of the forty-five pounds weights onto the bar and almost press it.  But for today, the forty-five pound bar was more than enough.  Vision's of the old Charles Atlas beach weakling found on the back of Flash Gordon Comic Books flash before me.  Has it really come to this?  I think to myself.  I do two sets of fifteen reps and then sit up to a bit of vertigo.  I know the lactic acid will be screaming through my deeply buried pecs tomorrow.  But, you have to start somewhere.

I grab some dumbells and do ten bicep and ten tricep curls.  I do a few presses and figure I've done enough for the day.  I set the dumbells down and to my surprise the 20 lb mark I was expecting to see reads 10 lbs.  Sheesh.

I realize as I leave the fitness center that it is time to call in a professional.  I had noticed a flyer on the wall next to the bench press - very strategic placement - advertising a personal trainer.  The flyer suggested that the personal trainer can provide an exercise regime tailored to specific needs, including medical concerns.  I grabbed her card at the front desk and called when I got home.

After getting some initial information, Vicky, the professional trainer, asks, "would you like to start tomorrow?"  Hold the boat I think to myself.  I mean I just walked 1.4 miles and benched forty-five pounds.  Today was a huge day for me.  I "Just did it."  I'm not an automaton that can workout every day.  What about my my sure to be searing lactic acid tomorrow?  I didn't say all that.  Roxanne just heard a nervous giggle prior to me saying, "ah, sure."  She then went on to discuss how we would discuss a number of things and assess my strengths and weaknesses.  To which I couldn't help but laugh out loud and say, "shouldn't take long on the strengths."  She didn't say anything and probably just thought, "he won't make it past two sessions."

So tomorrow it truly starts.  I'll be forking over real money to be motivated to exercise and not just collecting Wii coins on my Wii Fit.  I'll let you know how it turns out.

"Dialyze for the Prize."  Erich