We Shall Call Him Franz

So the last time I was writing about my trainer (poor soul), I mentioned that we should give him a name.  After many good ideas, I presented the list to him.  After quick deliberation, he chose a name, but I didn’t like his response, so I’m choosing one for him.  We will now call him Franz.

So, my latest story about Franz is that I really, officially think that he is trying to kill me.  During my last work out with him, after I was finished with most of my exercises and headed to the last one, he kept repeating, ‘Ooooh!  We have ten minutes left! You’re gonna have to do this for ten minutes!  You’re gonna hate me!’  Too late, Franz.  I already do.

The  last thing Franz wanted me to do was pick up a 60lb sand bag, and walk it down the track, and back.  When I got back to the beginning, I was to put the bag down, and pick up a kettle bell in each hand.  Each one weighed about 40lbs.  My first trip down the track with the bag I thought, “I used to carry this weight around on me every single day of my life”.  My first trip down the track with the kettle bells I thought “Holy shit, I used to carry THIS weight around on me every single day of my life”.

My OMG moments were rudely interrupted by Franz telling me to stand up straight.  Here’s the thing- When you were 85lbs heavier, you’re used to holding your body weight in a certain way.  Standing up straight to me, is actually leaning back in the normal world.  When Franz tried to get me to stand straight, it felt like I was leaning forward.  Add 60-80 pounds of weights, and I am like a hobbling old woman.  I don’t even know how any of this makes sense because currently, I feel like I am just leaning forward all the time.  I think I need a posture brace. That should work out well while I’m trying to hop, squat, and lift at the gym.

Anyways, I did this for ten whole minutes, just like Franz threatened.  When I was done, I dropped the weights, and put myself back in that happy place thinking, “I used to carry that.  I USED to.  Not anymore.”

 GET. OUT. AND. WUN.

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That Time A High School Child Watched Me Work Out

So let me start off by saying that I am SICK AND TIRED of not being able to go to the gym, and work out with my trainer.  Physical Therapy has been ridiculously helpful for my shoulder injury, but I feel like a waste of space without my routine.  On Tuesday, at my PT appointment, I asked about heading back to work with my trainer, and the staff at the office collaboratively put together some ideas of things for me to do without further hurting myself.

On Wednesday, I was back at it.  After PT on Tuesday, I immediately messaged my OLD trainer (I’mmmmmm BAAAAAACKKKK!!!) and told him what I could and couldn’t do.  He was on board, and we scheduled my first day back with him, at a new facility.

I was freaking petrified of starting again, and honestly, I should have believed my fear.  It was as if I had never been before in my whole life.  So this new facility is a great space and like I described in a previous post, it was like an entire place made up like ‘The Green’, at my gym. Fortunately for everyone on planet earth, only two people were working out, while I was there.  Unfortunately for me, they were both innocent children (Presumably, High Schoolers).  I quickly got into Nanny Mode, and stifled my swears.

The very first thing the devil of a personal trainer I have wanted me to do, was jump up onto a block.  Jump.  I don’t jump.  Let’s not forget, that I may be skinnier, but I’m not any more athletic.  In fact, I still have all that BODY left hanging around (Picture E.T.), so jumping seems completely out of my reach.  Never mind the fact that I have SLS (self diagnosed and named Short Leg Syndrome), and he wanted me to jump on a block half my height. After much complaining, his alternative for me was to ‘long’ jump down the track.  I basically fucking hopped.  I was completely self conscience, made fun of how far my distance was, and asked him to describe my jiggle upon landing.   The whole time, one of the poor, innocent, children WATCHED and LISTENED (and smirked- little shit).  I felt totally ridiculous, totally out of shape, and totally weak.

Those kids got the show of their life.  I was this hot mess of a prematurely elderly bodied woman in her mid-thirties, struggling to breath, and move, who was threatening her trainers existence.  Maybe they will use this live comedy show as motivation to never stop what they are doing, and to continue to work hard at the gym.  That’s all I can ask for, really.

So, jumps, kettle bell lifts, step ups, sit and stand shit, sled pushing, and basically humping air from a laying position (I think I should make a video of this move to post on here) and I was done.  It was only thirty minutes of pure hell, and sweaty eyeballs (yes.), but I was done.  I landed on the floor of the gym, throat and chest burning, and all I could think was, ‘I feel like I’ve never done this before in my life’.

I’ll be back next week.

P.S. My text to my trainer after my session was not an apology for threatening his life.  Instead, it was me telling him he missed me threatening his life.  He responded saying that he agreed, and I was one of a kind.  I think he loves me. ❤

P.P.S. My body hurt so badly that my arm was sore while stirring dinner.

‘That’s When You Know You’re A Real Weight Lifter’

“Oh no!  An injury?! Well, that’s how you know you’re a real weight lifter”.

That’s the text I received from my old trainer (who is soon to be my new trainer, AGAIN), when I told him that I wasn’t allowed to do to any sort of weight lifting for a while, because I hurt my shoulder.

It.  Sucks.  It’s like, when you’re finally on a roll and you are doing well and then CRASH! BOOM! BANG! life gets in the way.  Again.

So I hurt my shoulder doing a lift I had never done before, where the bar of weights is resting on the back of my neck, and shoulders.  It’s the only thing I can think of that would have pulled anything back there.  Two days after the work out I was sore, but that’s normal.  It was the next three days, and the following week after getting medication, that sucked so bad.

My doctor thought I had a pinched nerve… FUCK! NOT AGAIN! WHY ME??? (queue Nancy Kerrigan scream).  Upon further investigation, my new Physical Therapist (the lucky duck he is) decided that it was actually a severely pulled muscle in my shoulder, and it is now affecting my arm and neck strength.  Cool.

I have some exercises I get to do at home to try to ease the pain, and get myself back in working order.  I also have my super-cool-make-me-fall-asleep medication, to help with the awful pain.  I was really bummed out about not being able to weight train, but I will tell you one thing…  When the Physical Therapist said ‘Definitely NO SQUATS’, I almost got down on one knee, and proposed.

Do You Have Five Minutes?

It’s Thursday night.  I have completed two sessions with my new trainer, and I’m laying on my couch recuperating.  My phone buzzes and it says that I have a text from my old trainer.

‘How was the first week?’ he asks.

‘Well, I didn’t swear’ I answered.

After a few back and forth messages about my new trainers training technique, he asks what I am doing on Friday morning.  I tell him I’m going to visit my grandparents…but why???

‘I wanted to see if you could meet me at a gym.  I found a place where I can train people.  I chose my favorite five clients, and you made the list.’

How is that even possible?  I am the worst to him.  I mean, I threaten his life on a daily basis!  Oh well… I MADE THE LIST!!  Unfortunately, this doesn’t change the fact that I can’t go see the gym, but I am excited at the prospect of training with him again (guess I should have held my breath after all!!).

So, it’s Friday morning, and I place a mobile Starbucks order, hop in my car, and head down the street to grab my espresso.  I get out of the car, and walk with my head down, staring at my phone.  All of a sudden I hear, ‘Ohhh… I thought you were going to see your grandparents.  That’s why you couldn’t meet up with me’!  I look up, and see my old trainer.  I’m completely startled.  This is the equivalent to seeing a teacher outside of school.  It’s just not supposed to happen.

I pull myself together, and start laughing and telling him that I am just grabbing my coffee, and headed to see my grandparents.  He asks if I have five minutes to check out the gym, and before I can resist, he pulls me down the sidewalk.

We walk into this space full of VERY athletic looking people.  Women are seamlessly puling themselves up on bars. People are lifting weights as if they were picking up feathers.  Most of the space is what the ‘Green’ looks like at the gym.  Remember the ‘green’?  The space in the gym that I hate the most?  This place was 100% ‘green’ area.

My trainer explains that he can train me here, and he can do it the way he really wants to.  ‘You’re going to transform’ he says.

All I can think about are all the ways I’ll picture hurting him, while training here.

#newbeginnings