Ow #2
A month and a half after I joined the gym, I have officially begun my fitness regime. I had a session with a(n) (evil) personal trainer yesterday, who figured out a programme for me.
Evil Personal Trainer asked me what my goals were. I told him I wanted to get rid of my bingo wings before the wedding (he sniggered). Then he devised a punishing* schedule of cardio work, and resistance training, including lots of fitnessy type terms like chest presses and iso-ab work, none of which mean anything to me. But he also gave me an Idiot's Guide to the Gym, on which he drew little stick men to remind me how to do each exercise. He clearly had my number because this was before I told him about falling off the cross trainer. I wished I'd kept my mouth shut about that though as, instead of laughing like everyone else I've told, he just looked at me a bit strangely and said that none of his clients had ever done that before... Maybe he thought I wasn't taking things seriously enough. Or maybe he was concerned about leaving me unsupervised in the presence of dangerous equipment. Oh well.
*Well alright, it's probably quite tame. It is about 4 years since I got off my arse to do any exercise beyond walking to the kitchen.
He then showed me how to do each exercise, and made me practise it so he could tell me what I was doing wrong (turns out I wasn't clenching my buttocks with enough zeal). One of the exercises he had me doing involved lying on my back with my legs in the air, bringing them in to my chest, then raising them again. It was, if you'll excuse my language, really fucking hard! I was terrified I was going to let out a little trouser trump with all the exertion. Thankfully I managed not to disgrace myself.
That was yesterday, and then this morning I got up with the Boy at 6am (!), got to the gym for it opening at 6.30, and was warming up by 6.35. I did my programme (and was grateful for EPT's little stick men), then got myself ready for work and was at my desk 15 minutes earlier than usual, starving and in pain, but happy. It's 3pm, I can now type without wincing, and I feel good for getting my toosh in gear and doing some exercise. I'm aiming for at least two visits a week, ideally three.
This means I can go home tonight and eat chocolate with a clear conscience - I burned nearly a whole Crunchie on the cross trainer alone.
Evil Personal Trainer asked me what my goals were. I told him I wanted to get rid of my bingo wings before the wedding (he sniggered). Then he devised a punishing* schedule of cardio work, and resistance training, including lots of fitnessy type terms like chest presses and iso-ab work, none of which mean anything to me. But he also gave me an Idiot's Guide to the Gym, on which he drew little stick men to remind me how to do each exercise. He clearly had my number because this was before I told him about falling off the cross trainer. I wished I'd kept my mouth shut about that though as, instead of laughing like everyone else I've told, he just looked at me a bit strangely and said that none of his clients had ever done that before... Maybe he thought I wasn't taking things seriously enough. Or maybe he was concerned about leaving me unsupervised in the presence of dangerous equipment. Oh well.
*Well alright, it's probably quite tame. It is about 4 years since I got off my arse to do any exercise beyond walking to the kitchen.
He then showed me how to do each exercise, and made me practise it so he could tell me what I was doing wrong (turns out I wasn't clenching my buttocks with enough zeal). One of the exercises he had me doing involved lying on my back with my legs in the air, bringing them in to my chest, then raising them again. It was, if you'll excuse my language, really fucking hard! I was terrified I was going to let out a little trouser trump with all the exertion. Thankfully I managed not to disgrace myself.
That was yesterday, and then this morning I got up with the Boy at 6am (!), got to the gym for it opening at 6.30, and was warming up by 6.35. I did my programme (and was grateful for EPT's little stick men), then got myself ready for work and was at my desk 15 minutes earlier than usual, starving and in pain, but happy. It's 3pm, I can now type without wincing, and I feel good for getting my toosh in gear and doing some exercise. I'm aiming for at least two visits a week, ideally three.
This means I can go home tonight and eat chocolate with a clear conscience - I burned nearly a whole Crunchie on the cross trainer alone.
Labels: Fitness
This entry was posted
on Monday, April 23, 2007 at 2:50 pm.
You can skip to the end and leave a response.
6am! Are you kidding? AND there is nothing off you!!!!!
I'd be asleep by lunch time. . .
I salute you. You're a better person than I.
Wow - I am duly impressed, Teeny! I haven't been near a gym in nearly 3 years and am trying to motivate myself to get back into a regular running schedule. I'll try to take inspiration from you!
Very impressive! So exactly how bingo-ey are your bingo wings? Are we talking Dot Cotton or The Roly Poly's?
God you're good. I do a daily regime with bottles of water for my bingo wings. Not only does it avoid expenny gyms full of lycra babes, I can do it in front of the telly!
And 6am? When is that?
There is not an a bit of fat on this women. Do not be fooled. Bingo wings! My Arse!
I went past a gym once. Didn't look very interesting, far too many mirrors and people preening themselves. As for going at 6:30 am, only if I was on my way home after a night on the piss.
6am - I thought we all agreed that was freakish behaviour?
Great minds think alike this week Teeny! But I have yet to experience the post work out pain, that will come when I can't get out of bed tomorrow (and not for a good reason!).
I too used to get up at 6am to go to the gym. You feel so self righteous at your desk afterwards. But then winter kicks in and before you know it, snuggling seems so much more appealing!
Good luck to you!
Queenie - No, not kidding. I was ready for a catnap by 3pm!
Hannah - Thanks. But I predict it won't last.
Stacey - I hadn't been to the gym for a few years either. I've only been twice so far, but it wasn't as bad as I was expecting!
Timbo - Am trying to prevent em getting to the Roly Poly stage!
Cat - I try just keep my head down and not look at the lycra clad gym-bunnies.
Goth - At 6.30am, I don't WANT to go anywhere near a mirror...
James - It is, but you'd be amazed how many freakish people there are out there.
Petifilous - Yes, I'm sure it'll be muuuuch harder getting up at that time when it's dark outside. But I'll be married by then, and allowed to get fat. Hope you're not too sore!
» Post a Comment