Here is more of what I wrote back when I first started working out. I can still remember how nervous I was to begin doing this and just really unsure of the entire process. At the time I didn’t have anything to worry about, something I definitely know now.
First day of training
October 21, 2013
I arrive at Balance at 4 on the dot. I’ve worn what I hope is the longest shirt I own because, hello belly fat!, and my grey knit pants. I’ve never realized how unattractive they are until you’re working out in front of mirrors. Yikes! Jake starts me out on the treadmill which to my horror moves slower than a turtle in reverse. I don’t have the heart to ask if I weigh too much to be on it. He makes a comment about needing to lubricate the belts (bless his heart) and I walk on it for maybe 5 minutes. It’s a mortifying ordeal because if I remove my hands from the grab bars, the damn belt stops cold. As if to say, you ain’t going anywhere with me honey. Thankfully I’m rescued from that misery only to do arm workouts with a medicine ball. If you don’t know what that is, think of a thick rubber ball filled with wet sand, heavy wet sand. I have to do these arm lifts where you start at your waist and raise your arms in an arc to the opposite shoulder. Seems easy enough and it actually wasn’t terrible. After 15 reps on each side, I move to a machine that has padding underneath. I’m supposed to lay my hands flat on top and raise me knees up to the pads underneath. Okay, I got this. Sometimes a little too much because I whack the padding, loudly, and more than a few times. Still, so far so good. It wasn’t until I move over to another machine that has this metal bar in the middle. I’m supposed to grip the bar, lean back a ways, and pull myself towards the bar. Logically I know this apparatus isn’t going anywhere, internally I’m thinking, holy crap, I’m going to pull this whole thing over. I get a case of nervous giggles and kept asking Jake, “are you sure this isn’t going to go anywhere?” He’s a constant stream of reassurance. I’m pretty sure the thing is bolted to the ground. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. But here I am 490/500 pounds and I’m pulling my weight towards a bar. I thought for sure I was going down. But Jake knows his stuff. I was fine, winded, but fine. I managed to make it through my first workout with minimal embarrassment and feeling pretty good. I did it! Day 1 in the books.
Second day of training
October 22, 2013.
I am again punctual. Still wearing my grey pants, but opted for a red shirt this time. Looking back, I think that shirt was a little shorter in length than the previous day’s shirt. Nothing like doing arm lifts with a weight bar and your stomach wants to play peek-a-boo, in front of a guy. Actually in front of anyone would be awful, but come on! I’m sure he’s used to all kinds of stuff, but this is my first rodeo with working out. Try balancing a weight bar in one hand so you can pull your shirt down with the other. Good times! I withstand that humiliation and if I had known what was going to happen later, that wouldn’t have seemed like anything. Jake shows me new things to do that will work my arms and my core (yay!) and it doesn’t seem so bad. Now, I’m sucking wind like a Hoover vacuum, but I’m still conscious and upright. Next come the side steps. This is where you turn sideways and walk the length of the room, side to side. Doesn’t sound so bad does it? Now remember that I am a pretty large person and have all this extra fat hanging around. I start off okay, step, step, step. That’s when I hear a little slap. As in my fat is slapping together when I am taking a step. Holy shit! I’m trying to hide my humiliation and keep going. There it is again. Slap! Oh my goodness is that my fat high fiving each other? Meeting in the middle saying, “Hey, how are you?” I am dying. Not literally but I was wishing the floor would swallow me. This room is quiet. It’s just Jake and myself with me breathing like it’s my last breath and my fat slapping together. To me it sounded like a cannon going off. Whether Jake heard it or not, who knows? He’s too gracious I’m sure to make a comment or face. Thank you Jake! It would be nice to say that was the only time that happened, but I have to walk back down the length of the room. Really? Is there any way I could possible pull my pants up a little to put some cloth in between the fat high fives? I tried. It didn’t really work. And how easy is it really to try and hike up your pants without being noticed and walking sideways? At least I didn’t trip and it only made me walk faster. Well, fast enough to where the fat slapping didn’t turn into a music beat. I had to do arm lifts again and but this time, correctly. Arms straight over my head, not pushed up and out. It’s humbling to have to tell your trainer that you were doing them that way because your shirt was raising up and you’re too self conscious about your gut hanging out for an afternoon breeze. Said trainer really is a standup guy because he’s going to stand behind you while you lift the bar the correct way. The rest of the workout was good. Grueling and had me wishing there was more oxygen in the room, but again, I was conscious and upright. Day 2 was done! I’m on a roll here people.