I have a couple of very close friends who get to hear about my training sessions every week and frequently about my daily gym excursions. This has been going on since session 1, way back in 2015. Because they are suspicious, untrusting souls just sure that the big box gym was taking advantage of my ignorance and bilking me out of hard-earned cash with some less competent trainer. To this greedy and bored nameless, faceless, generic big box gym employee, I was merely an hourly amount on his paycheck, until he finally quit and moved on to being a Starbuck’s barista or something else equally challenging.
My brother-like friend interrogated me about what we did in session, what was said, the nuance, the tone, the actual words used exchanged – interrogate is actually a fairly mild description of what our exchanges were like the first 6 months or so. As he is also a close friend of M’s and they talk regularly like a couple of gossiping old ladies, he would ask M about my gym trainer and experiences and if “that guy” seemed okay. Because lesser experienced or professional gym trainers have some sort of badge they wear around their necks or tattoos across their foreheads. It was as if he were waiting for some bad thing to befall me on which to pounce and declare himself correct in being suspicious of the quality of trainer J’s character and professional abilities. Other friend was and is far more interested in my yoga and pilates class experiences, since that is where his primary interests lie, but since his former spouse has been involved with a gym trainer who may be almost as bright as a box of dead lightbulbs, he has a more personal basis for his reservations about where I get my fitness instruction and advice.
How times have changed. Just today my o-bro friend was saying that J and I have way too much fun and he is jealous of being unable to share our good times. More importantly, he has come to understand and even respect J’s professionalism and abilities, having observed my transformation from reluctant, exercise-hating gym goer to exercise enthusiast. His support and encouragement – it means a great deal to me.
This morning I was lying on the floor doing stability ball glute bridges and hamstring curls and reminded that I really need to put forth more effort to practice these. So many Lists, so few practice days. But it reminds me that I’m sort of willy-nilly lately in my List selection and performance since the start of the year. I will soon have to rectify that and be a little more strategic in warm-up and huffy-puffy pursuits.
Maybe next month, anyway.
Whether I’m all over the place in my List selection or doing the same upper body, lower body multiple times in the same week, I am not especially worried about it. The important thing to me is being there, doing something. This week, I have been enjoying a resurgence of normal energy and
passion fierceness toward my practice. While I am not the toughest tribe member and will freely admit having to work harder at my mental game and sticking with it when the fatigue starts and makes me feel like stopping or worse, giving up. In my book, when the going gets tough (and it does), my brand of tough is to develop more discipline and consistency about just going, period.
I am still working at the healthier eating. Food, the final frontier. How can I trust body when it whispers things like “let’s have a muffin!” instead of an egg or a spinach-laced smoothie for breakfast. Or “what about another cheeseburger?” when I go out in search of food at lunchtime. I muddle through and my forward progress is maddeningly slow with my foot-dragging reluctance to just get busy eating food that is good for me but hardly appealing at all. I remind myself that better health is a process, and since I am not so extreme to live on lettuce, water, and protein powder, be patient and keep plodding away at it.
No complaints – as long as my diabetes remains in good control I have no room to whine.
And finally, I sort of miss the days when I did a lot of straight cardio, if only because I had that much more time to actually stand and read. But as it is, I could be reading while pedaling away on my arc trainer in the living room, yet I don’t. Because I would much rather read with something nearby for note-jotting. Or without having my focus somewhat divided by the motion of the arc trainer. Essentially, I am reading to relax these days, not to pass the drudge time while getting through my daily dose of exercise. Someday soon I may try again, just to see what it’s like.
Maybe next month. Feeling a little Scarlett O’Hara-ish tonight: “I’ll think about it tomorrow, at Tara. I can stand it then.”
Yeah, me and my first world problems. Happy and thankful tonight, as I am most nights. For good days that start with exercise and end with book in hand before I sleep.