Before I went to bed Wednesday night I decided to try the plank rows here to see if I could do them without anyone watching. And I did one or two on each side. And what I discovered is that I just do not like how the weights rub on my thumbs and I’m convinced that my fingers don’t have enough room between the bar and the floor and I don’t want to scrape up my hands. And that is the girliest thing I have realized since joining the gym. “The weight rubs my thums! Waaaah.” It is what it is. But I did some. Boom. Not going to be defeated by some dumb exercise. Yeah. Whatup?!?! *chest pump*
I woke up Thursday and was instantly just tired and ugh and in pain because some months are just like that for me. Not all of them, luckily. But this one has been. And Thursday I just really felt like I had been hit by a mac truck. I thought about calling in to work. But I didn’t. Because it was gym night. And then once at work I felt like going home several times. But I didn’t. Because it was gym night.
People told me I looked fatigued. It hurt to walk. It hurt to think. Thursday was just really bad. But? I went to the damn gym, y’all. Take that. I’m a bad ass. Or something.
I don’t know if Tyler was fully registering how bad I felt but after a while I just kinda hid it as well as I could.
We started out with me warming up on the stair master. I could have chosen any cardio I wanted but I chose the damn stair master. Why? Because the last time I was on it the damn thing defeated me and I ain’t about to let a machine have the last fucking word. But he set it really fast because I’m supposed to be pushing myself but my cardio is still weak as shit and I got dizzy again. It took longer this time, though. And I got winded. Because damn if I’m not just still out of shape. And that’s a bit disappointing for me to realize. Or think. I could be wrong. But it’s what I think as I’m breathing all heavy on the dumb ass stair master.
So we stop that and get to the muscle building.
We started out doing step up and overs. I have to do them much faster than the dude in the video and I move my arms in a fancier fashion. It’s like I’m dancing a bit. And it helped that the soundtrack at the gym was 1990s alternative music themed. “Today” was the greatest day I have ever known, indeed. I had to do 20, then 40, then 60 of these things. And you know what? The very first time he had me do them I had a hard time with my uncoordinated ass trying to figure out how to do it without tripping. This time? I did them smoothly and quickly and with jazz hands at the end. GO ME!!
I did three sets of burpees where I was holding a weight stick then I’d plant that, do the burpee, stand up, shoulder press the weight stick, repeat. For 10 reps. And then at the end he joked that I should javelin the weight stick across the room and I said I would if I could yell out “WOLVERINES!” and he agreed to those terms. He also explained that he’d seen the original because his dad has done a good job of showing him really good old movies. I wanted him to be quiet just then. My uterus is trying to kill me from the inside out and he’s all telling me how his dad showed him movies from his youth and I was all “Dammit those are the same movies of my youth and I am not old enough to be your mom!” But, yeah, I could be. If I’d gotten right on that whole birthing kids thing at the age of 17. His dad is older than I am. I just decided. I feel better now.
During this part of the workout he had me do the ball slams with a 15lb ball. This was easier than before even though the ball was heavier. But I think the fancy angsty ’90s alt soundtrack helped with that. I slammed the shit outta that ball “Say it ain’t sow00w0000!”
Then on to the really hard stuff that made me want to punch things.
I had to do a low squat onto the step, stand back up with just the power of my legs, then jump up from that standing position onto the step, jump back down to the ground and then start all over again. Holy dang. That took a few practice rounds with me holding on to Tyler so make sure I could even jump onto the damn thing and I could and then off we went. He wants this to be a fluid motion. I wanted my uterus to not be spasming. Nobody got what they wanted, ok. That’s what I’m saying. But I did them. Three sets. Six, then eight, then ten. They were slow but I did them. I win.
I also had to lay down on the step and do leg lifts as I squeezed the swiss ball between my legs. This is where the evening took a turn in my mind that I dare not share outloud with poor Tyler. Because I like him and don’t want to scare him. But when he had me lay down on the step he was all “now scoot your butt all the way to the edge then lay back.” This is now a visit to the gyno. While my uterus is on fire. NOT GOOD! Then I have to lift my legs and I’m pretty sure he said “Spread!” and I’m all “This is the most action I’ve had since December!” in my head while also feeling like I wanted to punch things still because holy fucking shit lifting that swiss ball with my legs was neither fun or easy. I have cramps, you know! And now I’m having to use my ab muscles and my leg muscles and those are the muscles that were being attacked the most by all of the uterus assholishness going on.
I’m sorry. You came here for a regular old update on how well my gymming is going and I’m saying uterus left and right. Sorry. But not really. I can say what I want. Uterus.
The first two sets of the swiss ball leg lifts was torturous because I would go all the way down to the ground and stop and I’d have to rebuild my momentum after each and every lift. He finally convinced me to do them quick without stopping on the last rep and I did and it was easier but holy damn still hard. But easier. So I did six, six, and eight on that.
I then discussed the plank row with him and how I did it at home and tried to do it at the gym but it rubbed my thumb and I was all “I know! This is the girliest and whiniest shit I’ve pulled since coming here but it really is bothering me!” and so we determined I should wrap my thumbs or use a rag to wrap the dumbbell or something and practice at home. Because I told him that I am NOT going to be defeated by a damn exercise and he said he agreed and it was all pretty good.
I told him about my ballet class and he asked me lots of questions about why and how and where and I told him and he was really pleased with how motivated I am and that I took action on this. So that was good.
When I first started meeting with Tyler I said he was what I imagined Adam Levine’s younger brother would look like. Now that I’ve been going a bit more and we joke and have a good time and I know his personality better I’ve decided he’s more like what Bret McKenzie‘s younger brother would look like. If Bret McKenzie was more groomed. Not that any of that matters but I wanted to amend the record of things. I’m odd. The main thing about Tyler is that he’s just really damn good at what he does and when I watch some of the other trainers that are at the gym I’m really glad that I had a personal recommendation because if I’d just walked in on the street and been paired up with one of them at random? I’d not be going like I am now. I would have hated it and I’d have quit. Yes, I am motivated and I get myself to the gym every Tuesday and Thursday but if I didn’t like the person that was there waiting on me? I’d not go. Plain and simple. I’ll recommend him to any person around that wants a personal trainer. The end.
And I say all of that after he made my bloated, angry uterused body jump up and down a lot. I can’t imagine the horrors he saw. Poor kid.