I had not done any regular weight training for months.
This was a problem.
Yes, I’ve had many substantial reasons for my lapse and can easily explain away the transgression. Doctors and tests and just plain laziness have ruled the day.
Now my sabbatical is over.
There was no aha moment, health conscious awakening or excessive weight gain that triggered the comeback. There was the knowledge that my 57th birthday is looming and looking old is bad but looking old and out-of-shape is embarrassing; especially if you’re a personal trainer.
I needed to get back into shape. I needed help. I needed some motivation. I needed a time and place and commitment.
Luckily a casual conversation morphed into the opportunity to team up with a friend. We are about the same age and fitness level. She is a happy soul and fun to be with. Our schedules tend to align. She’s not intimidated by me. (This last sentence is a key factor.)
This woman actually tells me what to do. She’s never afraid to say, “Shouldn’t you be doing 20 reps?” We both have input into the exercises and intensity. We both push each other. This is good. She is impressive.
The last time I worked out and took direction from someone was when I briefly hired the man that went on to train Farrah Fawcett. We had a good working arrangement; every time he asked me to do an exercise I made him do squats. I have a feeling Farrah was easier to deal with.
As of last month I am no longer living a lie. The sun shines, a BOSU ball and free weights get dragged out to the park and we train.
My body keeps sending me messages that this feels like glorious crap. The mixture of pain and strength is a reminder that muscles don’t age and are ready to spring into action if given half a chance… or squat… or pec fly.
Everyone has their own reason for sitting on the couch or starting to move. Each is valid and has merit. My reasons don’t matter, only your thoughts count.
The trick is to never be in denial. Own the moment.