For someone who enjoys eating as much as I do, one would think it wouldn’t be too difficult to swallow a huge chunk of reality. Let me be the first to admit, nothing could be further from the truth. Wednesday evenings has kind of started to be the night I meet with my personal trainer. This week, however, he had been double-booked with an intro class for personal training and asked if I would be willing to sit in on it with them in lieu of a personal session. I didn’t mind at all. There were two reasons for this. The first reason being that he is actually working with me a little more frequently then we had agreed. The second reason was that this was going to be the first session for these ladies, and frankly, I’ve progressed enough to totally rock.
So, I did my twenty minutes of cardio before hand and then met with them in the back of the gym where the training sessions usually take place. The three other ladies consisted of one in her mid forties, probably 50 lbs overweight, a young woman in her early twenties and seemed to be in good shape and another young woman in her mid-to-late twenties about 50 lbs overweight. So, we started with planks (not to be confused with the fad-of-the-moment: planking) and I did great. I’ve been working on those the past week and when we first did them last Wednesday I could barely do 10 seconds. I have worked my way up to 3 reps of 15 seconds. Then we did kicks where I lie on my back, hands behind my lower back and raise each leg. Once again, I did well…at first. It was at this point that I noticed that I was breathing much heavier than the other three ladies.
We moved on to lunges which he and I had worked on last week but I hadn’t done any since our session. By now I’m starting to slow and am having visible difficulty maintaining my balance. After the lunges he gives us 10 lb weights and we do various arm exercises and by then, I’m straining so much I’m having difficulty remembering to breathe. The other ladies appear to be doing very well. We then move to squat-jumps and by now they are having to wait on me to finish. When we finally finish these, we once again return to our mats and do a little more of the planks, and then the kicks. By the time I get to 25, they are done and talking with him. He asks me what number I’m on and I tell him that I’m on 25. He reminds me to finish and I tell him that I will, and I do.
I knew I was in bad physical shape when I started this leg of my journey. I knew that I was morbidly obese. I knew that walking up a flight of stairs winded me. I knew that my knees hurt. I knew that I had fat rolls. I knew that I was at exponential risk for diabetes and heart disease. I knew these things. I KNOW these things. What I had not realized, not really, was HOW out of shape I really was when compared to others. Of course, these other women complained about how their legs hurt and how tired they were. It was a hard workout. None of them struggled like I did and I struggled. I pushed. Every muscle I had strained and shook. My shirt was soaked, my hair was soaked and my face was beat red and covered with sweat. I struggled.
Yeah, I choked on this big hunk of humble pie. I was in complete denial at first but then the more I saw, the more I watched, the more I understood how poorly I had treated my body. Does this change my level of motivation? Hell yes! If I am struggling this much after almost a month of going to the gym and working out, where am I going to be if I don’t keep doing this? I have NO desire to find out.