A few weeks ago, the instructor in my weightlifting class was leading us in some abdominal work- all kinds of killer crunches and obliques, core strengthening, etc. - all the while urging us to "pull in your abdominals, keep your lower back on the floor, pull your belly button in." And we'd lift and reach, chin to our chests, grunting (maybe that's just me) and counting down.
Then she casually mentions,
"You've got to make sure you are pulling in your abdominals as hard as you can...if you don't, you can actually train those muscles to stick out. If your abdominals are pushing out while you're doing these crunches, they will go out instead of in."
Excuuuuuuuse me? Stick out?????
Shoot.
Me.
Now.
Showing posts with label at the gym. Show all posts
Showing posts with label at the gym. Show all posts
Friday, May 9, 2008
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
So What Should My New Year's Resolution Be?
A short quiz about me in 2007:
1. How many times did I go to the gym?
A. 150
B. 200
C. 319
2. How many hours did I spend online, namely blogging and reading other blogs?
A. I limited myself to one hour per day. I used a timer to keep it in check.
B. Maybe two hours per day - but only after the laundry was put away.
C. You do NOT want to know. I don't want to know.
3. What television shows did I watch a full season of?
A. Dancing with the Stars
B. The Biggest Loser
C. American Idol
D. The Office
E. Moonlight
F. ER
G. Grey's Anatomy
H. The Closer
I. Oprah
J. Ellen Degeneres
K. Lost
L. How I Met Your Mother
M. The View
N. Rescue Me
O. Private Practice
P. Desperate Housewives
Q. The Riches
R. House
S. The Singing Bee
T. ALL OF THE ABOVE
4. How many times did I watch High School Musical and High School Musical 2?
A. Never heard of it.
B. Just once...it was okay.
C. Again, you do NOT want to know.
5. How often did I read my scriptures?
A. Every morning before I even get out of bed.
B. I tried to read with the boys at bedtime, but sometimes we were just too tired.
C. Twice a month.
#1. The answer is C. Yes, I went to the gym 319 times. What I wouldn't give for that number to be 320 - the oddness of the 19 is driving me crazy. Can I just say 320? Thank you. In my defense and to squash the feeling that I need to get a life, that number includes every time I went there to play tennis or go swimming. Even I'm rolling my eyes.
#2. C. I got my laptop last Christmas, and that was around the time that I discovered all these blog thingys on the internet. They were begging to be read. Then I started Dishes and Laundry in July and 129 (curse those odd numbers) posts later...the hours spent online...I'm ashamed.
#3. T. I attribute this to the fact that my television watching was severely limited as a child. Just making up for lost time. T is also the first letter in Tivo - the very thing that makes all this television watching possible. Here's to Tivo.
#4. C! Okay, so I have this little thing for Zac Efron. And cheesy yet catchy music. Plus my kids like it and I'm trying to be a hip, cool Mom. Plus, there's my Zac.
#5. C. Yeah, twice a month. And that was when I was teaching in Young Women's. I taught twice a month, and therefore read my scriptures twice a month - the ones listed in the manual. You know, so I was prepared and all.
I'm sure you can guess where this is heading, resolution-wise at least.
To be continued...
Until then,
What did you spend entirely too much time doing in 2007???
Saturday, October 20, 2007
I Hate to be Late...part two (also known as a rant)
Yesterday I started out writing a little back story for the real story that I'm writing today. I just got long winded and kind of off topic, and in the end, I wanted to eat ribs and laugh at Steve Carell with my family. The story could wait until today.
Two mornings a week, I take a spinning class - indoor cycling. I've grown to love this class, even more since The Biggest Loser says that a one hour spinning class will burn 700-1000 calories. It's super early, (5:45 am) and the class is fairly small, the instructors are good and so is the music. My kind of class.
The bikes are the upright kind, not the recumbent, and they have a little knob that you can turn and make the resistance harder or easier. The instructor leads the class on different "courses", up hills (crank the resistance up), races or sprinting to "get ahead" of an imaginary biker, jumps (resistance high, alternately standing and sitting), etc. The sweetest words are "take it to flat road", and you turn the knob to zero resistance. It's all timed to the music and it is seriously fun. Did my fingers really just type that? Shoot me now.
The lights are out during the class - the only light coming in is from the hallway. I like to close my eyes when it gets really hard, pedaling and trying to get to the end. My balance seems to be okay, and I've never felt like I was going to fall off (though wouldn't that make a good post?).
A few weeks ago, I convinced my friend Susan to come spin with me. She's a night owl and getting up early is her definition of hell, so I knew how hard this was for her. She did it though, and has come faithfully every Thursday morning for the past month. I told her she's hardcore. We rode together, and we got there plenty early to get her set up on her bike.
Unfortunately, not everyone who is new to the class comes early. Remember I said that other people being late doesn't phase me at all. Well, all that has changed, at least as far as the spinning class goes.
For the past three weeks, people are walking in right at 5:45 or later, without a clue as what to do. The instructor has to take time with each late person to get their bike set up and several times, the actual class hasn't started until almost 6:00. The rest of us just keep pedaling, warming up. (Okay, it just occurred to me that I could hop off my bike and help one of them get set up, but I would sure hate to do it wrong. Nah, they are still wrong to be late and make the whole class wait).
Now I wouldn't mind the starting late too much, except that the class has to end at 6:45. When it starts late, we get less time in workout mode, or we have to skip the abdominal work at the end of class altogether. Yes, I could do the abs at home, but I know me, and I don't. I just don't.
And the kicker...by the time the class starts, the rest of the class has been warming up, as in our bodies are getting hot and sweaty, while the late-y lates have been trying out different handlebar positions. They are still cold from walking in. The instructor asks, "Are you ready for the fans?", and the not-warmed- up people shout out "NO!".
Excuse me?
Don't mess with my fans!!!!! I will take you down, I swear...
Yes, this is petty. I know that if this is the worst thing going on in my life, I have nothing to complain about. But I just had to get it off my chest. Thank you.
Anything bugging you lately?
Go ahead, I'm listening.
Two mornings a week, I take a spinning class - indoor cycling. I've grown to love this class, even more since The Biggest Loser says that a one hour spinning class will burn 700-1000 calories. It's super early, (5:45 am) and the class is fairly small, the instructors are good and so is the music. My kind of class.
The bikes are the upright kind, not the recumbent, and they have a little knob that you can turn and make the resistance harder or easier. The instructor leads the class on different "courses", up hills (crank the resistance up), races or sprinting to "get ahead" of an imaginary biker, jumps (resistance high, alternately standing and sitting), etc. The sweetest words are "take it to flat road", and you turn the knob to zero resistance. It's all timed to the music and it is seriously fun. Did my fingers really just type that? Shoot me now.
The lights are out during the class - the only light coming in is from the hallway. I like to close my eyes when it gets really hard, pedaling and trying to get to the end. My balance seems to be okay, and I've never felt like I was going to fall off (though wouldn't that make a good post?).
The first time you go to the spin class, you're supposed to go at least 5 minutes early to get set up on your bike. It's not hard, just a lot to adjust, so the bike will fit your body. You can move the seat up and down and closer and farther (to the handlebars). The handlebars also move those same ways. It needs to be "just so", so that you don't hurt your knees and so you can be as comfortable as possible. The instructor shows you how to set it up, explains the resistance knob and some of the terminology. It takes a few minutes - that's why the class schedule says to come early!
A few weeks ago, I convinced my friend Susan to come spin with me. She's a night owl and getting up early is her definition of hell, so I knew how hard this was for her. She did it though, and has come faithfully every Thursday morning for the past month. I told her she's hardcore. We rode together, and we got there plenty early to get her set up on her bike.
Unfortunately, not everyone who is new to the class comes early. Remember I said that other people being late doesn't phase me at all. Well, all that has changed, at least as far as the spinning class goes.
For the past three weeks, people are walking in right at 5:45 or later, without a clue as what to do. The instructor has to take time with each late person to get their bike set up and several times, the actual class hasn't started until almost 6:00. The rest of us just keep pedaling, warming up. (Okay, it just occurred to me that I could hop off my bike and help one of them get set up, but I would sure hate to do it wrong. Nah, they are still wrong to be late and make the whole class wait).
Now I wouldn't mind the starting late too much, except that the class has to end at 6:45. When it starts late, we get less time in workout mode, or we have to skip the abdominal work at the end of class altogether. Yes, I could do the abs at home, but I know me, and I don't. I just don't.
And the kicker...by the time the class starts, the rest of the class has been warming up, as in our bodies are getting hot and sweaty, while the late-y lates have been trying out different handlebar positions. They are still cold from walking in. The instructor asks, "Are you ready for the fans?", and the not-warmed- up people shout out "NO!".
Excuse me?
Don't mess with my fans!!!!! I will take you down, I swear...
Yes, this is petty. I know that if this is the worst thing going on in my life, I have nothing to complain about. But I just had to get it off my chest. Thank you.
Anything bugging you lately?
Go ahead, I'm listening.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Why Troy Won't Go To the Gym with Me
Last week at the gym, I got into a predicament that was so alarming and goofy, I felt like Lucille Ball. I regret that a picture couldn't have been taken - I would have happily put it up here, just to save me the trouble of having to describe what happened and what I looked like. It's gonna take some 'Splaining. A picture would have helped.
For the past month or so, my trainer Laura, has been having me do some squats with weights on my shoulders. 'Cause it hurts more that way. I place a 15 pound weight on each shoulder and hold onto the ends, balancing them there, while I squat and pretend to sit on a bench. I'm supposed to do 3 sets of 15, and I can rest in between each set - but just getting the weights on my shoulders and settled and nestled is a pain, so I try to just plow through and do the 45. By the end, I'm red-faced, huffing and puffing a little and trying not to make an ugly face. Then I take those weights off and put them away as fast as I can. I'm worried that this particular exercise is making me shorter. (Sigh)
Whenever I go to the gym, I always pull my hair back in a ponytail. Can't stand to have my hair hanging down, getting my my eyes, making me sweat. But on this particular day, I decided not to pull my hair back. I wasn't doing any cardio, so I wouldn't sweat much. I'd straightened my hair and didn't want to make a ponytail dent because I had to go somewhere later. I was just lifting a few weights - no need to take three seconds and do what I'd always done. For whatever reason I didn't put my hair up that day, it was a very bad choice. I'm talkin' consequences, people.
So my hair is hanging down, couple inches past my shoulder.
I hoisted up the weight on my right side first. I set it down on my shoulder - and down on my hair. I could feel the weight tugging at my hair, so I lifted the weight up, bent my head over to the left (a move I cannot do right now, because of the car accident) to clear the hair out of the way, set the weight back down and straightened my head. My hair was now cascading over the top of the weight. Doesn't cascading sound better than bunched up and lying there? I did the same thing to the left side. I brought my hands to the front and cupped the ends of the weights.
I squatted. 45 times.
All I'm thinking about is getting the weights off and being done with this exercise. I brought my hands up to my shoulders and hooked my thumbs under the bar part, lifting the weights, while at the same time, curling my fingers down over and around the bar to get a good grip. I didn't think about what else was hanging down and around the bar - my cascading hair.
The weights were lifted a few inches off my shoulders, supported by my thumbs. I had plunged my fingers into my hair and was gripping it along with the 15 pound weights.
For the past month or so, my trainer Laura, has been having me do some squats with weights on my shoulders. 'Cause it hurts more that way. I place a 15 pound weight on each shoulder and hold onto the ends, balancing them there, while I squat and pretend to sit on a bench. I'm supposed to do 3 sets of 15, and I can rest in between each set - but just getting the weights on my shoulders and settled and nestled is a pain, so I try to just plow through and do the 45. By the end, I'm red-faced, huffing and puffing a little and trying not to make an ugly face. Then I take those weights off and put them away as fast as I can. I'm worried that this particular exercise is making me shorter. (Sigh)
Whenever I go to the gym, I always pull my hair back in a ponytail. Can't stand to have my hair hanging down, getting my my eyes, making me sweat. But on this particular day, I decided not to pull my hair back. I wasn't doing any cardio, so I wouldn't sweat much. I'd straightened my hair and didn't want to make a ponytail dent because I had to go somewhere later. I was just lifting a few weights - no need to take three seconds and do what I'd always done. For whatever reason I didn't put my hair up that day, it was a very bad choice. I'm talkin' consequences, people.
So my hair is hanging down, couple inches past my shoulder.
I hoisted up the weight on my right side first. I set it down on my shoulder - and down on my hair. I could feel the weight tugging at my hair, so I lifted the weight up, bent my head over to the left (a move I cannot do right now, because of the car accident) to clear the hair out of the way, set the weight back down and straightened my head. My hair was now cascading over the top of the weight. Doesn't cascading sound better than bunched up and lying there? I did the same thing to the left side. I brought my hands to the front and cupped the ends of the weights.
I squatted. 45 times.
All I'm thinking about is getting the weights off and being done with this exercise. I brought my hands up to my shoulders and hooked my thumbs under the bar part, lifting the weights, while at the same time, curling my fingers down over and around the bar to get a good grip. I didn't think about what else was hanging down and around the bar - my cascading hair.
The weights were lifted a few inches off my shoulders, supported by my thumbs. I had plunged my fingers into my hair and was gripping it along with the 15 pound weights.
- My hair was pulled down tight from the top, I couldn't lower the weights.
- I couldn't loosen my grip on the weights and shake my hair free - it was all entwined in my fingers and gloves.
- I didn't want to drop the weights on my shoulders, 'cause...ouch. Might pull my hair too.
- I couldn't let go with my fingers - my thumbs couldn't support the weights by themselves.
I was stuck. Absolutely, stuck.
I looked like a crazy lady with some crazy barbell pigtails that I was holding in my hands.
Now most days, if there isn't anyone else in the weight room, I'm pleased. The room is small, dark, and hurts my personal space feelings. For a very brief moment, I was glad that no one was in there to see my predicament. Then, as the realization of just how stuck I was sank in, I began to wish for someone, anyone, to help me out. Those weights were getting heavy and they were blocking my peripheral vision.
In a panic, I started to giggle.
I made my way over to the weight racks and bent my entire upper body down to the top shelf. Standing sideways and with my head touching the wall, I gingerly laid the weight in my right hand on the rack. I pulled my hair out and stood up. I used my right hand to grab the end of the weight on my left side, and then I was free. A clean escape!
I brushed my hair back and sat down on a bench. Waited for the panicky adrenaline rush to subside. Whew. I giggled again, imagining just how absurd I looked. I don't think anyone saw me. I was able to save myself - maybe it was a good thing that no one was in the weight room with me. Could someone in the cardio room have seen...nah, who would be watching me?
Or...possibly...someone made their own blog entry that night:
You'll never guess what I saw at the gym today - some dorky girl didn't pull her hair up and was lifting weights...
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Lost and Found
It was barely starting to get light when I left the gym today. In the middle of the parking lot, there was a guy on his hands and knees looking down into a storm drain. He had a flashlight and an untwisted wire hanger, and he was moving the wire slightly up and down in between the metal grate. He was fishing for something.
"What are you looking for?", I asked. I'm friendly like that, even in the early morning.
"Keys." There was almost an air of "Duh" in his answer.
I didn't blame him for sounding a bit snippy. He was, after all, kneeling on asphalt, in shorts, at 6 o'clock in the morning. And his keys down a storm drain? Oh man, that's some seriously bad karma coming back to him.
I wished him luck and headed towards my car, but I couldn't stop thinking about the poor guy. What a rotten start to his day. On the other hand...this parking lot is huge. Shouldn't he have walked around the drain? I, for one, avoid going anywhere near storm drains. Not because I worry about dropping things down them, but because I know that this guy will be waiting for me.
First person that names the movie will get the Reader of the Week Award. And if you know the movie, I'll bet you don't go near storm drains either.
I don't recall ever losing my keys in a big way, but both Troy and I have lost our wedding rings and remarkably, got them back.
A few years ago at Bear Lake, we were swimming out to a big trampoline that was anchored out in about 10 feet of water. To climb on top, you had to hoist yourself up a ladder that was attached to the side. When Troy grabbed the ladder with his hands and stepped with his foot, the part of the ladder that he was holding onto mashed into the rubbery side of the trampoline. When he pulled his hands free, his wedding band slipped right off his finger and bloop, sank to the bottom .
Crud.
Thankfully, Bear Lake is remarkably clear. A bunch of us were on top of the trampoline, looking down, and we could actually see the ring lying there, nestled in the sand and glistening! So close - and yet, so far away.
This excited all the men to no end. Lord of the Rings was all the rage, and now we had, right in front of us, our own little quest for THE RING. They were all diving down, the spirit of Frodo swelling inside of them. Every time they got down to the sand and tried reaching for THE RING, the sand would swirl up and it would be lost. They'd swim back up, wait for the sand to settle and then dive down again. Most of the guys gave up after a few tries, swearing that it was really more like 15 feet down to the bottom.
In the end, our friend Jason was the retriever of THE RING. Thanks, Jason!
I lost my wedding and engagement rings in our backyard while gardening. That'll teach me to do yard work. I had gloves on and at some point took them off, taking my rings off with them, and dumping them out. Possibly even flinging them. Somewhere. In. The. Yard.
Double Crud.
I'd been all over the yard and in the flower beds, weeding. They could be anywhere. I looked and looked and never found them. When I told Troy, he ran out to a rental place, grabbed a metal detector and found them in minutes. It took him longer to drive there than to detect them. I had spent hours looking for them, a little sad, but still imagining the new rings that we would surely be buying before the day was through. Oh well.
I mean, thanks, Troy!
I kid, I kid. I loved my rings and I'm very glad that he found them.
Have you ever lost something very important or valuable? Did you find it?
"What are you looking for?", I asked. I'm friendly like that, even in the early morning.
"Keys." There was almost an air of "Duh" in his answer.
I didn't blame him for sounding a bit snippy. He was, after all, kneeling on asphalt, in shorts, at 6 o'clock in the morning. And his keys down a storm drain? Oh man, that's some seriously bad karma coming back to him.
I wished him luck and headed towards my car, but I couldn't stop thinking about the poor guy. What a rotten start to his day. On the other hand...this parking lot is huge. Shouldn't he have walked around the drain? I, for one, avoid going anywhere near storm drains. Not because I worry about dropping things down them, but because I know that this guy will be waiting for me.
First person that names the movie will get the Reader of the Week Award. And if you know the movie, I'll bet you don't go near storm drains either.
I don't recall ever losing my keys in a big way, but both Troy and I have lost our wedding rings and remarkably, got them back.
A few years ago at Bear Lake, we were swimming out to a big trampoline that was anchored out in about 10 feet of water. To climb on top, you had to hoist yourself up a ladder that was attached to the side. When Troy grabbed the ladder with his hands and stepped with his foot, the part of the ladder that he was holding onto mashed into the rubbery side of the trampoline. When he pulled his hands free, his wedding band slipped right off his finger and bloop, sank to the bottom .
Crud.
Thankfully, Bear Lake is remarkably clear. A bunch of us were on top of the trampoline, looking down, and we could actually see the ring lying there, nestled in the sand and glistening! So close - and yet, so far away.
This excited all the men to no end. Lord of the Rings was all the rage, and now we had, right in front of us, our own little quest for THE RING. They were all diving down, the spirit of Frodo swelling inside of them. Every time they got down to the sand and tried reaching for THE RING, the sand would swirl up and it would be lost. They'd swim back up, wait for the sand to settle and then dive down again. Most of the guys gave up after a few tries, swearing that it was really more like 15 feet down to the bottom.
In the end, our friend Jason was the retriever of THE RING. Thanks, Jason!
I lost my wedding and engagement rings in our backyard while gardening. That'll teach me to do yard work. I had gloves on and at some point took them off, taking my rings off with them, and dumping them out. Possibly even flinging them. Somewhere. In. The. Yard.
Double Crud.
I'd been all over the yard and in the flower beds, weeding. They could be anywhere. I looked and looked and never found them. When I told Troy, he ran out to a rental place, grabbed a metal detector and found them in minutes. It took him longer to drive there than to detect them. I had spent hours looking for them, a little sad, but still imagining the new rings that we would surely be buying before the day was through. Oh well.
I mean, thanks, Troy!
I kid, I kid. I loved my rings and I'm very glad that he found them.
Have you ever lost something very important or valuable? Did you find it?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Steppin' It Up
Over a decade ago, I was taking a step aerobics class at a little gym called Lady Fitness. It had some weight machines and a big purple carpeted floor where all the classes were taught. The walls were pink, purple and silver - it most definitely catered to women.
The early morning step class was the only one I ever participated in. It was taught on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays by a tiny woman named Vilma. She was from Brazil or Venezuela, somewhere a little more exotic than Utah, and sometimes it was hard to understand her instructions. So three days a week, I went in and did turn-step combos, repeaters, flamingos, grapevines and corner-to-corner knees, hamstrings and kicks. I felt young and groovy, and believe me, I could do the moves..
I loved this class - the dance, the rhythm, Vilma's tricky combinations. It's funny how fitness trends change over the years. Vilma was always trying to switch things up - I remember when she wanted to start adding some free weights to the end of the class, and all of the women balked at the thought of lifting or toning. We didn't want to, but she made us, and now strength training is all the rage. She also started a kickboxing class for us, a couple of years before Tae Bo tapes gathered dust on top of televisions across America. Vilma was ahead of her time.
I went to Lady Fitness for over 5 years, but when Troy started driving truck and not being home every morning, I had to give it up. The club closed soon after, and while I don't know for sure, I sense a connection. I missed doing the step classes.
Now, in another attempt to mix things up in my current exercise madness, I bought a month pass for the classes at my gym. At first I was just trying out the spinning and the weight lifting classes, which are called Power Pump 'n Sculpt, but after a week or so, the step class was calling to me again. I tried it out last week and then again today.
I felt like I was home - minus the purple carpeting and Vilma, of course. It all came back to me perfectly. The music still pulses out a beat that makes me want to exercise, the moves still have the same names, the fans still blow, and I felt like I'd never left the step class.
Except...
I'm older now. Seven years older. And I'm having problems with my feet. Are you sick of hearing about my feet? Sorry. And there is also some tenderness (read: pain) here:
Yes, those are wrinkles above my knee. You have them too. Or you will.
And apparently, I also have this.
I do not recall being troubled by these things when I was stepping 7 years ago. I used to fly over the step, jumping and moving all over the place. Now there are moves I can't or won't do. I take care not to put too much weight on my left foot. I worry about turning on my right knee, and heaven forbid both feet hit the ground at the same time, or the other problem leaks out.
Get it? Leaks! HA!! I gotta laugh about it, or I just might cry over my failing body. Can't laugh too hard, though, or I'll need to go change.
I love the step class, I really do, but it definitely shows me that I've gotten older. I may not be able to keep taking it.
Are there things that you used to do, but now can't? Tell me I'm not alone!
Friday, August 24, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Just call me Monk
Over the years I've developed a wee bit of OCD. Nothing too unmanageable, mainly just a numbers thing. I like nice, even numbers, or anything in a multiple of five. It started at the gas station, and I'm guessing that this is a common one with a lot of people - it might not even qualify as an obsession thing, but you'll see how it all ties together, and you'll agree that I have a problem.
When I'm gassing up the car, the dollar amount has to be an even dollar amount. Just has to be. If I over-shoot and the total is 30.01, I feel uneasy to the point that I will pump more gas until the number "feels" right. $31 won't do - it's an odd number. I can live with $32 or $34, but wouldn't it be better to hit $35 - it's not even, but oh, it's such a nice multiple of five. It gets worse.
At the gym on my cardio machines, there are all kinds of numbers to watch. And believe me, I do. My favorite machine is the elliptical which shows me the resistance level and the incline level. They have to match. I can't have the incline on a 4 and the resistance on a 6. That's messed up. And you know I'll never do anything on an odd numbered level. This is pretty easy to manage - set it once and I'm good to go.
Another number that I watch and manage is the ending calorie count. I was doin' the elliptical with a friend one time and she noticed that I had suddenly sped up and was striding like crazy.
"What are you doing?"
"Um...my time is almost up and I need to get this number to end in a multiple of 100."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, see I'm really close and it doesn't feel right to stop at anything other than ...there, see...it says 300." I stop pedaling. "I can stop now"
Silence. And I realize that she doesn't do this. We laugh about it and this was when I realized that my little quirk might just have a name in the mental health chapters of a medical book.
The final number that I watch is the Total Strides. I watch this one to pass the time because it keeps my brain so busy. The number is changing rapidly, and what I am watching for, in particular, is symmetry within the number. A number like 1212, 3553 or 4444 pleases me. I can honestly feel a tiny surge of adreneline pop in my brain when I see numbers like that. I don't start watching the number until it hits at least 1000 - a three digit number gives me no pleasure. But after 1000, the fun really starts. There's 1001, 1010, 1111, 1122, 1133 - it's endless. What nice, little symmetrical numbers. Occasionally, if I have time, I can reach the best number ever - 5555. Isn't it lovely?
Last story - I took that Body & Soul class at the Lifetime Fitness Center with a friend. She had on a fancy wrist monitor to measure heart rate and calories burned. They were her calories burned, but since I was with her, the numbers called to me as well. The class was so fun and at the end, she showed me her monitor: 596 calories. That just wasn't gonna fly, and she was kind enough to walk around the empty room with me until I saw a nice little 600 in all its digital glory.
So there is - all my numerical freakiness. And right now, the gas pump and the gym are the only places that it gets to me. At least that I've noticed.
So come clean - what are your quirks or obsessions? Do you hide them or just put it all out there?
When I'm gassing up the car, the dollar amount has to be an even dollar amount. Just has to be. If I over-shoot and the total is 30.01, I feel uneasy to the point that I will pump more gas until the number "feels" right. $31 won't do - it's an odd number. I can live with $32 or $34, but wouldn't it be better to hit $35 - it's not even, but oh, it's such a nice multiple of five. It gets worse.
At the gym on my cardio machines, there are all kinds of numbers to watch. And believe me, I do. My favorite machine is the elliptical which shows me the resistance level and the incline level. They have to match. I can't have the incline on a 4 and the resistance on a 6. That's messed up. And you know I'll never do anything on an odd numbered level. This is pretty easy to manage - set it once and I'm good to go.
Another number that I watch and manage is the ending calorie count. I was doin' the elliptical with a friend one time and she noticed that I had suddenly sped up and was striding like crazy.
"What are you doing?"
"Um...my time is almost up and I need to get this number to end in a multiple of 100."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, see I'm really close and it doesn't feel right to stop at anything other than ...there, see...it says 300." I stop pedaling. "I can stop now"
Silence. And I realize that she doesn't do this. We laugh about it and this was when I realized that my little quirk might just have a name in the mental health chapters of a medical book.
The final number that I watch is the Total Strides. I watch this one to pass the time because it keeps my brain so busy. The number is changing rapidly, and what I am watching for, in particular, is symmetry within the number. A number like 1212, 3553 or 4444 pleases me. I can honestly feel a tiny surge of adreneline pop in my brain when I see numbers like that. I don't start watching the number until it hits at least 1000 - a three digit number gives me no pleasure. But after 1000, the fun really starts. There's 1001, 1010, 1111, 1122, 1133 - it's endless. What nice, little symmetrical numbers. Occasionally, if I have time, I can reach the best number ever - 5555. Isn't it lovely?
Last story - I took that Body & Soul class at the Lifetime Fitness Center with a friend. She had on a fancy wrist monitor to measure heart rate and calories burned. They were her calories burned, but since I was with her, the numbers called to me as well. The class was so fun and at the end, she showed me her monitor: 596 calories. That just wasn't gonna fly, and she was kind enough to walk around the empty room with me until I saw a nice little 600 in all its digital glory.
So there is - all my numerical freakiness. And right now, the gas pump and the gym are the only places that it gets to me. At least that I've noticed.
So come clean - what are your quirks or obsessions? Do you hide them or just put it all out there?
Tales from the gym
Last week I was doing the elliptical at the gym and watching people. I don't watch the televisions very much - my eyes are too bad and the stations aren't the greatest, but I do like to watch people. Troy asks me if I look at all the hot, young bods on the men there, and I assure him that this is not that kind of gym.
I look at the Skinny Skinnies and wonder why they spend time here; the man with the oxygen tank and I'm awed at his courage and strength - he's doing all he can to live; the mom coming in with her underage son who is a little chubby, helping him begin a battle that he'll probably fight his whole life; the buff guys (there are a few) who are there every single time I go in, no matter the time, and I wonder if they work or are they trying to escape something by being at the gym all day. I see the teenage girls coming in to run on a treadmill and I imagine that they are training for a school sport - otherwise they would surely be sleeping in; I see people like me, not young and not old, trying to be healthy/lose weight/raise the HDL/lower the BP, working hard, sweating; the groups of women who come in together and walk slowly on the treadmills, all in a line, and talk and talk and talk. They are the only ones that talk - everyone else has an ipod or a book.
People rarely make eye contact and if you do have to say something to someone, you have to touch them on the arm to get their attention - everyone moving to their own song, lost in their own thoughts. They press pause on the ipod and take out an earbud, almost surprised that another person was even in the room, let alone that they had something to say. We follow the rules, wait our turns, and always wipe off our machines. For the most part, people try to be private in a very public situation.
But I've digressed. My story is: Our cardio room is set up with the bikes and recumbent bikes in a line in front. A dozen treadmills are in row two and the 10 ellipticals are in the third row. There are a bunch of weight machines that I never use facing the mirrored wall behind all of these cardio machines. I am keenly aware of the fact that anyone on the weight machines can see me movin' and groovin' on my elliptical, just by looking in the mirror.
The place isn't crowded, maybe 3 or 4 of us on the ellipticals and two people using the treadmills. One woman is on treadmill #2 and the other is clear down on treadmill #12. All the treadmills in between stand silent, still, the walking platforms raised maybe 8 inches off the floor. The woman on #12 stopped her machine and started to head toward the beginning of the row - she had to get to the paper towels so she could wipe down her machine. Only she didn't get off her machine and onto the actual floor. She started hopping down the row of treadmills, stepping lightly on each one as if she were crossing a stream and these were convenient little stepping stones. Can you see where this is going?
Yup, she's headed right down the row, and we (the elliptical striders)can see that she's not even noticing that treadmill #2 is MOVING. Treadmill-hopping woman is still lost in her music and the whole thing was happening so fast, the striders couldn't do anything but watch in horror as she skipped down the row. I think all of our heads just moved slowly from left to right, knowing that she was going to hit that moving platform and shoot back into the ellipticals. Did we cry out? Try to stop her? Nope, we just watched.
Her foot hit the platform and her arms shot wildly out from her body, trying to catch her balance. I don't know if she made a sound or not, my ipod blasting in my ear, but her mouth was open and she had a look of terror on her face. The treadmill threw her sideways and she landed ON HER FEET! Her arms were waving and clawing at the air. She kind of bent at the waist and stumbled forward, but she remained, for the most part, upright. It. Was. Awesome.
She stood up straight, looked back at the row of treadmills and smoothed her hair back from her face, and continued walking until she was out the door. The other striders and I looked at each other, mouths open. One woman clutched her chest. And we kept on doing our cardio. We still didn't speak. I wonder what we would have done if she had crashed horribly, and I'm glad we didn't have to find out.
The woman didn't come back in to wipe her machine off.
I look at the Skinny Skinnies and wonder why they spend time here; the man with the oxygen tank and I'm awed at his courage and strength - he's doing all he can to live; the mom coming in with her underage son who is a little chubby, helping him begin a battle that he'll probably fight his whole life; the buff guys (there are a few) who are there every single time I go in, no matter the time, and I wonder if they work or are they trying to escape something by being at the gym all day. I see the teenage girls coming in to run on a treadmill and I imagine that they are training for a school sport - otherwise they would surely be sleeping in; I see people like me, not young and not old, trying to be healthy/lose weight/raise the HDL/lower the BP, working hard, sweating; the groups of women who come in together and walk slowly on the treadmills, all in a line, and talk and talk and talk. They are the only ones that talk - everyone else has an ipod or a book.
People rarely make eye contact and if you do have to say something to someone, you have to touch them on the arm to get their attention - everyone moving to their own song, lost in their own thoughts. They press pause on the ipod and take out an earbud, almost surprised that another person was even in the room, let alone that they had something to say. We follow the rules, wait our turns, and always wipe off our machines. For the most part, people try to be private in a very public situation.
But I've digressed. My story is: Our cardio room is set up with the bikes and recumbent bikes in a line in front. A dozen treadmills are in row two and the 10 ellipticals are in the third row. There are a bunch of weight machines that I never use facing the mirrored wall behind all of these cardio machines. I am keenly aware of the fact that anyone on the weight machines can see me movin' and groovin' on my elliptical, just by looking in the mirror.
The place isn't crowded, maybe 3 or 4 of us on the ellipticals and two people using the treadmills. One woman is on treadmill #2 and the other is clear down on treadmill #12. All the treadmills in between stand silent, still, the walking platforms raised maybe 8 inches off the floor. The woman on #12 stopped her machine and started to head toward the beginning of the row - she had to get to the paper towels so she could wipe down her machine. Only she didn't get off her machine and onto the actual floor. She started hopping down the row of treadmills, stepping lightly on each one as if she were crossing a stream and these were convenient little stepping stones. Can you see where this is going?
Yup, she's headed right down the row, and we (the elliptical striders)can see that she's not even noticing that treadmill #2 is MOVING. Treadmill-hopping woman is still lost in her music and the whole thing was happening so fast, the striders couldn't do anything but watch in horror as she skipped down the row. I think all of our heads just moved slowly from left to right, knowing that she was going to hit that moving platform and shoot back into the ellipticals. Did we cry out? Try to stop her? Nope, we just watched.
Her foot hit the platform and her arms shot wildly out from her body, trying to catch her balance. I don't know if she made a sound or not, my ipod blasting in my ear, but her mouth was open and she had a look of terror on her face. The treadmill threw her sideways and she landed ON HER FEET! Her arms were waving and clawing at the air. She kind of bent at the waist and stumbled forward, but she remained, for the most part, upright. It. Was. Awesome.
She stood up straight, looked back at the row of treadmills and smoothed her hair back from her face, and continued walking until she was out the door. The other striders and I looked at each other, mouths open. One woman clutched her chest. And we kept on doing our cardio. We still didn't speak. I wonder what we would have done if she had crashed horribly, and I'm glad we didn't have to find out.
The woman didn't come back in to wipe her machine off.
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