back on the wagon
I went to my new gym today for the first time — excepting the actual orientation and signup visits, which didn’t hurt at all, and therefore don’t count. I learned a few things.
I learned that I’m ten pounds heavier than I thought. If we had a scale in the house, this probably wouldn’t be the case (in that I would know my weight; I don’t think it would have made me any lighter). I’m not sure if that means that I’m in worse shape than I thought, or if I’m just not good at quantifying my unfitness. I think I could lose 20 lbs of fat (of the disgusting 55 lbs I’m currently carrying around on my otherwise-scrawny frame!) and be much better off for it. We’ll see how it goes.
I also learned that my resting heart rate is shameful, and my systolic blood pressure is a little high. I wonder why my last physical didn’t mention that.
The final lesson was that my trainer is going to kick my ass. Three is a pretty big number when it comes right before “more” and right after twenty reps with more weight than I have probably ever maneuvered in that manner before. He’s got his work cut out for him, clearly.
I loved the seventeen or so workouts with a personal trainer that I was bullied into buying when I joined a gym — it helped that my trainer was a shorter (turns out it was possible) and more muscular version of Al Pacino, complete with “Hoo-ah!”s exclaimed in support of my sweaty acheivements.
Hm. Looking back, that phrase was far more homoerotic than I meant for it to be.