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23 march 2002

Click here if you're looking for on unconditional love--judging from the incoming mail, this issue hits home with a lot of you Denizens. You make me proud!

some of the incredible work at the full circle exhibit, currently up at salem college. this is an anne kesler shields piece.

death by personal trainer

A note to Mom, Dad, and Kelli: if you guys don't hear from me for over a week, go to the Central YMCA and ask for Tony the trainer. (He's the 6 foot 7 one, easy to spot.) It's his fault. I think the three of you can take him down. Me, I can't take a box of cereal down at the moment. Ow ow ow ow ow.

Now, before I get going here, I want to make one thing clear. I don't go around saying that I "have" a personal trainer, then flip my hair like I'm all that. While I am a huge advocate of working with a trainer on occasion, I only do so whenever my workout is undergoing or needs changes. I'm already pretty motivated, and it's way expensive to work with a trainer all the time. When I retire, I'm going to become a trainer to the senior set. Make some dough, and get my fellow fogies moving, baby! But I digress...

I'd previously worked with one guy, and one woman. They were okay, but I found myself either hitting plateaus too quickly, or getting undesirable results. You know how people say how it's so hard for women to build muscle? LIARS! Three weeks of Joe's leg workout, and I was well on my way to Russell Crowe thighs. No thanks, dude.

For months now, I'd been watching Tony the trainer work with lots of different women in the weight room. I liked his method, primarily because he was very hands-on. (Not woo-hoo hands-on, you.) He wasn't afraid to place his hands on the proper muscle group to make sure it was getting a good, safe workout. Every other trainer at the Y, in my opinion, put everyone on the same rote plan: 10 reps, 3 times, next machine. They weren't very interactive. Boo.

The other main reason I approached Tony for a session is because he is very tall. This may sound weird to you guys. But I think one of the reasons I didn't have great luck with the other trainers, is because they tried to sell their workout to me. However, our body types were nothing alike. They were both shorter than me, and much more muscular. When you're a tall woman with bright hair, you stand out enough in a crowd. Bulking up is not in my plan, you know? Tony understood my concerns immediately, and we were off to work.

It turns out that, for the most part, I'm doing the right things for my arms, back, chest, and abs. For my legs, however, we've started a whole new plan. The plan is to render me immobile until I'm 40. Look for me at your local Wal-Mart, shopping in one of those scooters.

The amazing thing is, he's cut my leg workout time in half, and I think I'm going to get way better results. It is, however, painful. Like, I was shaking in my shoes painful. I now thoroughly understand what "working the muscle to exhaustion" means. Halfway through each set, my quads had officially declared naptime. I was just hoping to stand up in the shower when this was all over. There were parts of me cramping that I swear to you exist in no anatomy book.

Nonetheless, aside from the dull ache and insidious exhaustion, I did feel a great sense of accomplishment. It felt really good to have someone push me to my absolute physical limit, and send me home limping. I know that sounds nuts, but it makes me feel good to know that I am thoroughly balancing out my life. The way I look at it, if I don't take care of my body, my mind will poop out, too. My creative spirit will fizzle inside a lethargic vessel. And I just can't have that.

Before Tony and I finished, he asked me a question. "Define 'strong'."

I told him that as long as I can pull myself from the cliff's edge, push myself from the ground, and run a mile from someone chasing me, that should do it.

I never thought strength was about acquiring lumps and bumps. I figure, it's how well you can take them.