Courage

My friend Susan and I have been seeing a personal trainer for the past month. I'm still not comfortable saying that - it sounds pretentious, or braggy, something. I've tried saying it different ways - "I have a trainer", "I have an appointment at the gym", but no matter how I say it, it it still feels weird. Basically, I go meet Laura and she is showing me how to do stuff .

I've been doing the elliptical for about 9 months now. I was on it for over an hour a day, and I wasn't seeing any more weight loss. I'd also been going to Curves every morning, and while I think that it's a very good program, I was starting to feel like I could do more. I wanted to keep up with weight training, but I had no idea what to do or how to do it. I needed help. Enter Laura, my uh, trainer.

She's been showing us how to do a correct interval workout, a correct cardio workout and how to do weightlifting with the free weights. How many reps and sets, how much weight, the different muscles, etc. So much to learn!

The hardest thing, so far, is going into the weight room. It's co-ed, dark, feels like man's territory. I do see a few women go in there, but it's mainly men. We whined to Laura about it - we don't feel comfortable squatting and lunging and bending over. We just don't. We've seen the men watch other women at the gym - whether it's leering or jeering - and we don't want to be those women. It feels daunting, uneasy, icky.

Laura pretty much told us to get over it - that we have every right to be there too, and now, we actually know what we're doing. We even have a personalized charts. Get in there, she told us, and lift those weights. She's tough like that.

So today I went in the weight room by myself. There were two guys in there, doing their thing, so I just took a deep breath and held my head high, hiked up m' sports bra, and started my workout.

I use weights ranging from 8 lbs. all the way up to 20. I would prefer to gather all my weights and take them to my little corner, but I think that the gym etiquette is to only take what you need at that very minute. So I had to keep walking back and forth to the weight stand, saying excuse me to the dolt who was standing right in front of it. He irritated me to no end. He knew I was going to keep coming back to switch my weights, but he stayed right there, in my way, in everyone's way.

On about the fourth trip to change my weights, I decided to make eye contact with this guy. Perhaps he was like a dog and just needed to get used to me being in his territory. I looked up him, behemoth that he was, and tried to give a slight smile that said "move it Buster, I deserve to be in here too". Can a smile say that? Mine did.

But no smile was returned. He didn't even glance at me. He looked like Vincent D'Onofrio in Full Metal Jacket - shaved head, mouth dangling open, and crazy, crazy eyes. Best to leave him be, don't you think? He can stand there if he wants to.

And then my weightlifting was done. I had worked through my fear of the room. I had broken through a gender wall, real or imagined, and had conquered that "man's territory". I basked in my own courage.

I headed towards the aerobics room for a step class. All women, all shapes and sizes, well lit, perky music. Smelled better. We set up our steps, I looked around the room, and saw a man. Taking a step class. Conquering "women's territory". I smiled at him, telling him that I knew how he felt, that yes, he deserved to be here, and that I wouldn't get in his way. Can a smile say all that? Mine did.

And I thought I had courage.

Turns out, he was the best in the class.