The last time I wrote about my three-time-weekly workout schedule in my six-month push to the big 6-0, I mentioned that we spent the entire hour working on my legs and lower body.
My concern, I noted in that column, was that I planned to be at my next session at 6 a.m on Wednesday “if I could get out of bed.”
Well, it wasn’t the getting out of bed that was difficult, heck, I sprang right up about 4:30 … but it was the first step I took after I was on my feet. Holy, schmoly … my hamstrings were tighter than Charlie Daniels fiddle strings.
Why is it that the second day after a work out hurts worse than the first day? I’m almost certain that the answer has something (or everything) to do with being old, overweight and out of shape, and not necessarily in that order.
In any event, I trudged (it seems like I use that word ‘trudged’ a lot since I started this little six month experiment) off to Stark’s Total Body Fitness for my 6 a.m appointment with Stetson Browning.
I arrived about 5:15 and walked on the treadmill, foolishly thinking I could walk the pain away. Actually, the walk seemed to help my legs so I felt good when Stetson came to get me going.
Today we worked upper body and again they (Father Time and Stetson) kicked my butt. I have to say that Stetson does a remarkable job with me because clearly I’m a novice.
In fact, I asked him this morning if he had ever had anybody that was more of a ‘project’ that I am. His reply motivated me.
“I have people in here that I help that have disabilities, prosthetic legs or they are trying to working around an injury,” he told me. “Everything works on you, nothing is wrong … you’re a clean slate.’
I love clean slates, so despite the old, gray-haired guy I see huffing and puffing in those freaking wall-to-wall mirrors, his words provided a shred of hope that I really could accomplish my goal.
We went through three reps each of various exercises geared to the upper body. I was disappointed with some of the weight amounts that absolutely pushed me to the limit.
“That’s pitiful,” I said out loud when my arms began to wobble and falter on the final rep of the third set.
“Anytime you push your self to the very last rep you can do, regardless of the amount of weight, you’re making great progress,” he told me.
I’m starting to like this guy and better yet I’m starting to trust him. In short, no horns this morning.
The dread and fear have vanished, and while it might not be visible yet I feel different, feel better. I was drinking as many as eight to 10 20-ounce bottles of Diet Coke a day and I’ve had three in a week (working toward zero) and gallons of water. Back at it at 7 a.m on Friday morning … and I’m looking forward to it.
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