Thanks to a little twitter encourangement from Jenn The Left Over Queen I was a little stoked to try out weight lifting. A little scared but stoked none the less.
I decided to forgo the advice from the 16 year old “running shoe expert” who told me that running shoes were only for running and I would need to purchase special weight lifting shoes. I mean seriously, are the shoe police going to come get me? Plus my quest for an exercise routine I can become addicted to has already cost me a small fortune so I wore the running shoes paired with my running shorts and the top from my cute little yoga outfit. Plus the weight training session was free! I was already way ahead of the game with weight lifting.
My eyes bugged out of my head when I meet my trainer, Mr. X. (an alias to protect the inncocent and guilty). He has the face of a Botticelli angel and the body of Adonis – or maybe Brad Pitt in Troy. And he was the sweetest guy, he didn’t snicker or roll his eyes or or snort when I answered his questions as to my exercise goals.
We started off nice and easy, lifting a few pounds, doing a few reps (that’s weight lifting lingo) and Mr. X was so concerned, always asking “Is that too heavy?” There was some cool rock music blasting in the background, I was pumping iron and certain I was going to be ripped and strong in just a few short weeks!
After about 15 minutes my cherub faced, Adonis bodied sweetheart turned into Attila the Hun. Or Hitler. He was “encouraging” me to do more, lift slower, watch my form. Heck, I couldn’t watch anything as my eyes were so filled with salty sweat. My heart was pumping, my muscles screaming and waves of nausea kept rolling through my churning stomach. I seriously thought I was going to die and my life passed quickly before my eyes.
Oddly enough I found a peace of mind that escaped me with yoga. When told to empty my mind I couldn’t do anything but think dark evil thoughts. But when Mr. X. told me to concentrate my mind went blank. Nothing existed except the sound of his voice counting reps and the now faint rock music in the background. I think this must be a mechanism employed by the mind that allows prisoners of war and concentration camp victims to survive. The pain and distress fade away as our bodies attempt to stay alive through sheer torture.
At the end of the hour I was relieved to have survived and more than a little proud. As I walked to my car I felt strong. My feet felt that they were literally moving the earth below me. I was strong! I was woman who lifted weights! I was invincible!
The next morning I awoke wondering if I had been in a terrible accident. Everything hurt. Even my eyelashes. How in the world can this be good for you?
I hobbled to the bathroom like a 98 year old train wreck victim thinking that quite possibly weight lifting was not my calling after all.
And then something happened. As I lifted the toothbrush to my mouth I glimpsed in the mirror the faintest outline of – A MUSCLE! On my bicep. It was small but there it was popping up like a proud little mound. Well not exactly a mound, more like the faintest whisper of a shadow of an image of a mound, but still. I kept lowering and raising the tooth brush and sure enough, with each motion my little muscle would pop up. I switched hands, same thing with the left arm. Holy muscle bound woman Batman!
All through the day as I hobbled from place to place in utter agony I would look again each time I passed a mirror. And every time I was rewarded with a glimpse at my baby muscle. Who cares if I can barely walk? Who needs to walk when they are buffed? (An added benefit to barely being able to walk is that I have eaten much less. When faced with the choice of getting up and walking into the kitchen or being hungry, hunger seemed like the most sensible solution.)
As the days have passed the soreness has dissipated but my burgeoning muscles have not. Finally, an exercise I can embrace! That’s the good news. The bad news is that Mr. X informed me that I must supplement weight lifting with other forms of exercise such as cardio and stretching. So while I can add weight lifting the quest is not over. Apparently I must find a whole routine and make working out a life style. And apparently drinking expensive martinis in sexy shoes is not something Mr. X considers a healthy lifestyle.
Weight Lifting Recap:
Clothing – $0.00
Free Weight Lifting Lesson – $0.00
2 months gym membership – $70.00
About 350 weight lifting
Another 150 lifting my arms to check out my muscles millions of time over
Plus no negative calorie loss due to the nausea and inability to walk to the fridge.
Probability of adding weight lifting to my life routine:
Next up - Treadmill (clearly I need to find a more distraction-free place to run!)
Weight Lifting – Simply Gluten Free
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