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Return of the trainer

Ever have one of those workouts that leaves you invigorated and ready to go? Like you just have so much energy you could go conquer the world? Yeah, me too.

But not tonight. Tonight I worked out with my trainer.

See, last summer I started working out with him at our local YMCA. I follow him around after he shows me how to use each machine, how to adjust my seat and how much weight I should be using. And how many reps and sets I should be doing. Yeah, complicated, I know. Good thing I have him around to keep me going or I’d just give up. Most of the time I follow him obediently as we work through the obstacle that is circuit training. Sometimes I grit my teeth because I’m in pain, shaking or frustrated about what he’s making me do. Sometimes I want to slap him across the face (kidding) because it’s just plain torture.

But I don’t. And I can’t. See, my “trainer” is my boyfriend. As a drill sergeant former college athlete who was used to working out for numerous hours a day, he really knows how to work out. So I told him to bring it on. And last summer, I really got in shape. But I can’t remember when I stopped training with him. And then fall came, and winter, and spring, and well, summer too, and although I have been playing soccer a couple times a week, I’m not toned anymore. I don’t feel like I’m losing any weight. And I certainly don’t look like I am. So I asked him to train me again.

And now my arms are so sore that I want to stop typing. Right. Now.

And to top it off, it was shot day (my weekly allergy shots – which I give to myself in the fatty part of my arm) and I HIT THE FREAKING MUSCLE instead of the fatty tissue so my arms are already swollen and STINGING LIKE CRAZY.

I think it’s time for bed.


2 Responses

  1. My brother, who lifts at least 7 days a week, went to the gym with me to help me train exactly once 🙂 I think he enjoyed my pain a little too much. Now if we work out together over Christmas, I just stick to the elliptical.

  2. Allergy shots suck hard. Sorry about that one. My trainer is my husband, a former college athlete as well, and things can get pretty ugly some days. When he gives me a hard workout and I want to die I think to myself how stupid he looks doing pilates or I will stretch out next to him and savor how limber I am. It typically restores my confidence enough to get through it with our relationship in tact.
    : ) Good luck with those poor muscles of yours!

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