My trainer is a flake

I think I'm in a fight with my trainer. This isn't a real problem, but it's a small annoyance in the middle of a month that is turning out to be full of small annoyances, so I'm going to go ahead and bitch about it. I've said before that I adore him. I do. He's very good at his job -- clearly knowledgeable, creative, kind. It's obvious he's thinking about me and my progress and my limitations, rather than just throwing the same stuff at me he throws at every client. Also he's good company and if he's had enough coffee, he gossips about the other trainers, which is endlessly entertaining.

But he is a flake. He is late about half the time. The other half, he texts me right before we're supposed to meet and asks to reschedule. If I get that text the day before, I'm really impressed by how organized he is that week. That's how low my standards have gotten. To his credit, he always remembers to reschedule and always says if he knows he'll be late. He usually apologizes. I know he takes his job really seriously, but I don't think he gets how irresponsible it is to be so unreliable.

The last two weeks went like this: Last Tuesday he asked me (the day before -- woohoo!) to meet at 6:00 instead of 6:30. For me that means getting up at 5:20 so I can get to the gym 10-15 minutes early to warm up. I said yes without complaint, and even though I woke up Tuesday morning with both a cold and cramps, I showed up at 5:45. He arrived at 6:10. Yesterday I left for the gym at 6:05, checking my phone for messages before heading out. I warmed up, I stretched, I waited. At 6:45 I assumed he wasn't coming and worked out on my own, listening to the horribly annoying gym music because I'd come without my ipod, expecting to be following orders. Got home to a text he'd sent at 6:10 saying he'd been out sick all week and could I do Wednesday morning instead. I'm not unsympathetic to his need to stay home sick, but 6:10? Really? I texted back that I wanted to go to my yoga class Wednesday and asked if he could try to cancel earlier in the future since by 6:10 I'm out of the house without my phone or my ipod. I don't think 30 minutes notice is too much to ask. I really don't. It's Wednesday evening now and he still hasn't responded. No offer of another day to reschedule, no apology, no argument. It's extremely uncharacteristic of him not to communicate, so I can only assume that he is either annoyed or guilty. Either way, kind of childish.

Like I said, not a big problem. In the grand scheme of things, it's not disrupting anything except the inside of my head, but I'm kind of sick of it.

You Know What's Hard?

Swinging a very large kettle bell for 45 minutes.

Which is how my week began. Okay, it's how my Tuesday began. My trainer is trying to teach me kettle bell swings, which is apparently an acquired skill, thus the 45 minutes of, "Okay, you're doing this part right, but you want to do this other thing differently." This was, mind you, a kettle bell two sizes bigger than the biggest one my gym owns. He brings his own. If done correctly, this is a lower body exercise. Because I'm still learning, I managed to exhaust every muscle I have. By the time I got to work Tuesday, I felt I would never be able to lift my arms again. Wednesday morning I went to power yoga (more on that another time), which felt good while I was doing it, but made my muscles more tired. Am only just now feeling mostly recovered after resting today. Damn.

I've been delinquent here. I'll catch up. This was what I could write today without doing too much thinking. Between the muscle fatigue and my world being completely covered in ice, I'm not much for thinking.

The No Angst Policy

I spent a good part of this morning trying to decide whether or not to go back to that gym class today. I have felt a lot better about it after talking to my trainer who assured me that it's a fucking hard class and most people who come once don't come back and that he knows I don't stop to rest because I'm lazy. I felt all validated and encouraged. And then I got a cold early in the week and thought, well, I may be well enough to work out by Saturday, but I certainly won't be up for that class. Which was a great, no angst excuse. Then the cold really never got that bad and I was pretty much entirely well by yesterday. So I had to make a decision. I went back and forth.

Running would be good.
Maybe I would even be up for a workout as hard as class, but did I really feel like being around other people?
But cross-training is really important.
But I do cross-train. In this very week there has been weight-lifting, running, and swimming -- I'm not in a rut.
But if I don't go today, maybe it'll be easier for me to chicken out of going other days.
Etc...

And then I remembered a philosophy I adhere to at work.

I'm a children's librarian and while we have plenty of rules and thou-shalt-nots in my library, we also have what we call The No Tears Policy. If a small child is panicking about something -- wants a prize she hasn't earned, absolutely must borrow this book even though he has fines -- we go ahead and break rules to avoid tears. Give her the prize, let him check out the book. No Tears is a priority, and I believe in that.

I remembered, after all my deliberating this morning, that I have a No Tears Policy for myself -- or more accurately, No Angst. That's what has kept me sane about all the decisions that affect my body. No Angst over whether or not to eat a second cupcake. No Angst over whether or not I lost weight this week. No Angst over when or how or how much I work out. And I felt so relieved. I put on my workout clothes, went to the gym, waved at my trainer, put my headphones in and ran on the treadmill for 45 minutes all by myself. I stretched for a long time afterward because stretching felt good. Plenty of workout, zero angst. Maybe I'll feel like class next week or the week after, but deciding against it today felt like the right decision.

A couple of you commented last week with similar stories of gym class fear. I hope you can get past the fear if you want to. I hope that if you want to practice yoga or go to your trainer's class even though everyone else in it appears to be in better shape than you, you manage to suck it up and do it and reap the benefits. But I hope that if you decide the angst involved isn't worth it, that you go do something else that makes you happy without feeling like that class is something you should do. You should do what works for you. We all deserve to exercise happy.

Working Out with Other People

I would like to begin with the disclaimer that my trainer rocks. I adore him to no end and any complaining I am about to do is not in his direction.

He teaches this class at the gym on Saturday afternoons. It's a crazy mix of strength stuff and cardio stuff, a couple round robins of different exercises and some stuff we do all together as a group. It's unbelievably hard work. It kind of kills the rest of the day for me because all I can do is lie on the couch and marvel at how my limbs are useless. And I kind of dig that. I like the hard work and it's a good kind of fatigue. I like that it's sort of a freebie session with him -- an opportunity for me to do a workout I wouldn't do on my own.

But there are other people. I'm a friendly person, very social, almost extroverted most of the time. But there are times when I really don't want other people to exist, and while working out is one of those times. When I run on the treadmill, I take my glasses off and listen to my ipod and I'm in a bubble where no one else exists. I love that. In class, occasionally there's someone friendly who introduces herself and wants to chat. I hate that shit. I mean, I understand that for many people, that's why they take gym classes -- because it's a social experience. For me, it's an unavoidable side-effect of the free workout with my trainer. I can live with it.

More difficult is the fact that I cannot keep up. I can do most of everything. But it's damn hard. Everyone is red and sweaty and panting, but I'm the only one who occasionally just stops because, frankly, I want neither a heart attack nor an asthma attack and if I don't stop, one of the two is likely. I'm not vain, really. I don't know these people and don't care what they think about my fitness level. But it makes me feel lame. I get a lot of exercise. I run and swim and lift heavy things and take yoga classes (where, incidentally, it is encouraged to do what your body wants to do, even if the rest of the class is doing otherwise...) When I'm doing those things alone, I feel like I'm in pretty good shape. I don't care how slow I am, so long as my heart rate is up. But when I see everyone else managing to do what my body just cannot do, I feel inadequate. I feel fat. I feel like the reason I can't do shit is because I'm fat, because that's my go-to excuse or something.

I've rested and showered and rested more and eaten lunch and rested still more. My body feels good. I feel strong and also relaxed. But I'm wanting not to go to class next Saturday because it makes my brain feel lame.

Being a work in progress

I'm finding it very roller coaster-y to be in the middle of losing weight. I've lost almost 35 pounds now, which is enough to feel really different. This is especially true given that I've been working out a lot and doing strength training for the first time ever. My body is different. I feel different. I spend a lot of time lying in bed at night feeling around at my muscles in places where I wasn't able to feel muscles before. It's fascinating and thrilling.

And then sometimes I look in the mirror and remember that I'm still really fat. I'm not self-depricating here. I weigh 219 pounds, which makes me obese according to BMI charts and abnormally huge according to the fashion industry. I still have 80 or so pounds to lose. Mostly I'm not in a rush. This is a good pace -- I'm losing an average of two pounds a week, which is plenty. But it's hard to place myself. It's hard to feel where I am now while I am still and constantly changing (and of course, not changing -- I continue to be Me, which is a comfort and a delight as well as a frustration).

Kicking Ass

Back in the late 90's/early 00's, when I was watching too much Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I decided I really wanted to be able to kick ass. So I signed up for a Tae Kwon Do class and went three times before I gave up. My main problem was that my sense of balance is so poor, I couldn't stand on one foot long enough to kick. I was also generally out of shape, it was winter, and dragging myself to a fitness class after work in the snow was just not convenient enough for me at the time.

Now I get up way too early in the morning and work out at my neighborhood gym, sometimes with a personal trainer. He tortures me with balance work, which I was not expecting. I stand on one foot on a squishy foam mat and do odd things with hand-weights. And slowly, my balance is improving. And then last week, not even knowing about my Buffy/Kicking Ass/Balance fiasco, he asked if I wanted to learn to box.

Um, yes.

So today I got to put on big vinyl gloves and punch in his direction until my arms stopped working. It was damn hard work and really fun. I think I'm really going to enjoy it. Someday, I may even be able to kick someone's ass. You know, someone much smaller than me and evil enough to deserve it.

I've become one of those people

I get up at 5:45 most mornings and go to the gym. And I love it. It's what makes me want to get out of bed. Seriously. Being motivated to exercise is kind of unfamiliar to me. I have never been entirely sedentary -- I love to walk; I have been swimming and practicing yoga sporadically for years; I even took up running a couple years ago and went so far as to participate in a 5K (miserably, and very slowly). But even though I enjoyed all those activities, it was always a chore to make myself do them. I would shoot for three or four days a week and spend all day in discussion with myself about whether or not this was a work-out day. I liked the exercise but hated deciding to do it.

Weight Watchers does this Pavlovian thing where you can trade activity points for food points. So I started out walking a little more than I used to so I could have another snack. It somehow evolved into me going to the gym five mornings a week and hiring a personal trainer. Go figure.

The turning point was the difference between five days a week and three. At three, I had to fight with myself about doing it. At five, it's part of my routine, and my body is so used to it that I feel antsy when I'm not moving. I also remember how good I feel after working out so I go to the gym as a treat -- the way I might have eaten ice cream as a treat several months ago. Seriously, I hate myself a little bit for saying this shit -- who can stand the person who says, "No really, working out is a comfort just like pizza is?" But I seem to be becoming that person.

I have more energy. I stress less about what I eat because I know I'm working some of it off (though I don't eat a lot more -- I don't trade in my points very often). And I seem to be getting in better shape, which is oddly more gratifying than losing weight. This week on the treadmill I noticed that when I do intervals of running and walking, my running intervals are faster and longer and my heart rate doesn't go up as high.

I hope I don't somehow fall out of this habit. More than anything I fear my own ability to stop doing what's good for me.