Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Abuse of Process

It is after midnight and I woke up in pain. I cannot remember when every muscle in my legs and lower back were last so sore and achy….

I joined a new gym. I have taken to calling it the grown-up gym and I have been working with a personal trainer. I have had one session. I admit to being a little fluxed by the whole experience. You see I have been working out regularly in the last year and thought I had made great strides until Sunday when I learned I was only fooling myself.

The gym is populated mostly by these Conan the Barbarian sized men. There are a few women but they all look like these svelte and well-toned elves. Apparently, I am a great hit among the trainers who all look like they are still in high school. They are not use to middle aged women who openly admit to wanting to put on as much muscle as humanly possible.

Apparently, there was a lottery to see who would have the privilege of ‘beating me up regularly’. This is what passes for hip gym lingo. At first, I thought I had misheard and asked the manager to repeat himself which he did. Then I thought it had a kind of a weird sexual overtone to it. But then I thought, nah, can’t be. It must be just another abuse of language by pop culture. Now I realize it is just an understatement of fact.

My trainer made me realize I don’t have to really work harder but I do have to work a great deal smarter. She gave me a very simple but effective work out for my legs, abs and lower back. A vertical leg press, a few leg curls, reverse lunges and I am ready to cry. Do you know one of the reasons I believe in one loving just G-d? Liquid Advil.

4 comments:

Balbulican said...

"Liquid Advil..."

Known in our household as Dalwhinney.

SnoopyTheGoon said...

What balbulican sez, of course (well, I prefer Glenmorangie), but with a corollary: all sport is evil.

Balbulican said...

Could not agree more. I have long believed that a life of utter indolence and complete sloth are the best possible preparation for old age. It's a hard enough time of life without mourning the loss of one's energy, flexibility and strength - the transition is much easier if you never had any to start with.

Kateland, aka TZH said...

I am just not much of a drinker, a little red wine now and then, a cognac when things are very edgy and a good bottle of overproof home made Jamaican rum under the sink for colds that's the extent.

And its not like I want to extend my leg behind my head again or spend a few hours dancing on pointe but I don't want to grow old and be unable to walk or move freely. My mother at 66 can not walk more than 15 minutes at a time and most doors are too heavy for her...my father is 69 and still rides his bike at least 15 kms a week. Besides women have a very distressing habit of shrinking in age....and at 5'1" I really don't have much height I can afford to lose and still keep my place at the grown-up table.