Conversation with Mr. Trainer: Baby steps

Ok dear readers….I do have lots of heavy stuff on the horizon and will get to them when it’s right for me.  (At least they’re heavy to me….and this is my blog so I’ll qualify what I want.)

So, tonight I began my second training session of the week very distracted, a little disappointed in life’s circumstances, and just willing myself to get through the next tortuous hour. 

Of course, like he always does, Mr. Trainer called me on it the second we began (maybe it's because we're friends....but sometimes I prefer to think he's just a friend to the devil and has a weird sixth sense when it comes to his clients) and encouraged me to focus, remember why I’m doing this, and reminded me that I deserve it.  I’ll spare you the details on that, because quite honestly even sometimes I, in fact, can find that even too syrupy sweet.  However, it’s the other times when I’m reminded of my strength – even just the physical – that I know I can make it through others.

A very short portion of a conversation……but a BIG reminder of why I’m doing this.

Tonight, while doing several different lifts – Mr. Trainer kept referring to the fact that he was a little taken aback that they were too easy.

Mr. Trainer:  “That last one was too light for you.  What do you think?”

Me:  “Well, we could try more.”

And then the next move………

Mr. Trainer: “Um…..that one needs to add more weight too.”

Me: “Ok, we can try it.”

This happened 3 more times with 3 different exercises.

Mr. Trainer: “ So………….exactly how long have you been holding out on me?”

Me: “Huh?”

Mr. Trainer:  “Mofabulous.  Try this weight.”

Me:  “Well, that’s ridiculous.  That’s NOTHING.”

Mr. Trainer: “Exactly.  We’ve just today more than doubled – close to tripled the weight you’ve started with IN EVERY EXERCISE and you’re breezing through this.  Why in the world do you still doubt yourself?  We CAN do this.  God, sometimes I wish I could just shake you into reality.”

I had a vague reaction of being proud of myself....but really just wanted to ball up and cry.  Why did that hit me like that?  Why am I always limiting myself?

And....those thoughts are so completely annoying....even to me.

I have no idea why that’s a common theme.  Sure, I have my suspicions…..but the why is difficult to comprehend – and face.  But, I saw a glimmer tonight of what I could be thanks to someone who’s not afraid of showing me – and I’m….Excited.Terrified.AndalittleHopeful…..about who that person could become. 

Let’s hope I have the faith and follow through with discovering Her. 

Conversations with Mr. Trainer: He better be glad he's more than a pretty face

Soooo…….this happened.

You all remember the Red Shirt Basketball Guy, right???

Mr. Trainer is incredibly private with those that he doesn't know.  However, we share stories about our personal lives all the time.  The good - bad - funny.  We each know the 'characters' in our families but don't really know the names or much else.  He tells me loads – but doesn’t advertise it….and detests the fact that I talk about my issues publicly.  Quite simply – he just pretends I don’t ever write anything.  We’re comfortable in this illusion.  For now, at least.  (Because lets be honest…..I just can’t keep my trap shut.)

Tonight while exorcising my demons with Mr. Trainer, we ended up on an arm machine.  While making strange contorted faces praying desperately for rep 15 to come faster I realized…..with immense horror…..that ‘Red Shirt Basketball Guy’ was on the machine next to me.

Red Shirt Basketball Guy to Mr. Trainer:  “So, what’s mom cooking tonight?  I need a good meal.”

Mr. Trainer:  “How do I know, punk?  I’m an actual man that can take care of himself.”

Red Shirt Basketball Guy: “Psssshhhh.  Whatever.  I was just asking if mom was gonna be home.”

Me:  (Alarm bells start vaguely ringing in my head.)

Mr. Trainer:  “I dunno – you can call or just show up – so she’ll coddle you and pretend that you’re her favorite….because we all know I’m the shining win of the three.”

Red Shirt Basketball Guy:  “Oh…..(something that made me blush and embarrasses me to write…..)

So Red Shirt Basketball Guy stalks off….

I look at Mr. Trainer….horror still in my eyes……: “Is that????”  I just can’t even get the words out.

Mr. Trainer:  Sheepishly says…..”Oh yeah….have I not mentioned he’s my brother?”

Me:  “O.M.G.  I hate you so much right now.”

Mr. Trainer:  “What???  I told you I know him.”

And the kicker??  I've actually been properly introduced to his other brother.....why I have not been properly introduced to this one is beyond me.....and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need that explanation for part of a defense.

Mr. Trainer is now buried in some far off place it will take decades to find.  And I’m not even concerned about the consequences because I will for sure die of embarrassment tonight.

WHO FORGOT TO SEND ME THE MEMO????????

Conversations with....All the Trainers??

I swear.  Sometimes I wonder if I pay just for training sessions or comedic relief.  Because y’all.  Words can’t describe the hilarity that happened tonight.

So, the session started off in the ‘Tire and Battery Shop’ like Mr. Trainer calls it.  It’s a separate room off from the gym filled with most regular gym stuff added with a lot of Crossfit type stuff.

Mr. Trainer:  “So, I think we need to start working on heavy lifting.  Deadlifts.”

Me:  “Ok, whatever.”

For those of you that aren’t into the gym vocabulary, this is what I’m talking about…..

Of course it's not me...but so help me it will be someday!

It’s the thing that a lot of people are intimidated by.  They mostly see the very built guys wearing the weird belt and grunting over.

Mr. Trainer:  “But first, we’re going to do some stretches and kind of simulate it to get you used to it.”

So….he proceeds to show me what to do in his very serious teacher voice.

I figure it can’t be too hard so I go for it…..and find that it feels like I’ve had too much to drink as the balance is so not attractive.

Mr. Trainer:  “Ok – I realize you are….well, um…have more chest weight than I do, but try to control it and focus.”

Me: (Being that I have the humor of a teenage boy….Giggle.  And with No Shame.)

Mr. Trainer:  “Now, be serious.  Focus!”

Me:  “Sorry – it’s just that when you say those things, you blush so hard, and How in the world am I supposed to keep a straight face????”

Mr. Trainer: “ Gah.  Just. Do. It.”

So then he gets me to do the deadlifts.  And I swear, there are two things running through my head:

1)      You really have to be comfortable with the person teaching you this because your behind literally has to stick out so far….and your trainer has to physically position your body this way.  And, you have to stick your chest out like you’re waiting for whistles.  Side note:  It took everything in me not to bubble over with giggles.  Because.  WEIRD.  And he had the serious face because he’s for real about this stuff.

2)      You understand the douchebaggery that is so prevalent at gyms now.  You find yourself thinking, “Wow – this is cool.  I wonder what weight we can get up to!  I can now officially be considered a badass.”  It’s a problem.

Yup, BADASS.

So we continue with that and he keeps adding weight – I so rocked it and can’t wait for the next time.  See?  Douchebaggery.

Then halfway through, all of a sudden 3 other trainers that I’m familiar with enter all on their own and not with clients – just to do their own workout.  For most, this might be a dream come true.  However for me, I don’t see how, when I’m already sweating in places I’d rather not talk about , would I enjoy that audience. 

This situation brought on so many things …….including Mr. Trainer having to quietly apologize saying, “I swear I don’t claim them, I just need to be entertained over a few beers now and then.”  I know, Mr. Trainer….we all have those friends. 

And 6 of which………

1)      You’re not sure if they just don’t realize you’re there or if you’ve become such a fixture that they figure you witnessing their conversations is no problem.  (And they obviously have no idea I have a blog.) I heard things that would definitely make grown men blush.  And they all actually know my name, which brings me to #3…..WHY DO THEY KNOW MY NAME.  The anxiousness that this causes can not be truly explained.

2)      You realize that they all have an instinctive need to teach people when they inherently start to bark off orders to you while you’re doing strange things with weights and through the haze of all the prettiness around you, you forget who to listen to and start falling all over yourself…..because WHAT NORMAL PERSON COULD STAY STEADY THROUGH THAT.  And you forget to be too embarrassed because of said haze of prettiness.

3)      You will most definitely take mental notes on how the opposite sex thinks of girls and their dates.  Surely, I can use this as future ammunition.

4)      You hear quotes like “I’m pretty sure we just used each other.” And “Wait….was that Wednesday night or Friday night girl?.......along with a slew of other markers.” And you begin to wonder if you’ve ever been on a date with someone and been given a nickname.  TRUST ME….you only know if it’s a good or bad thing based on the nickname.

5)      You will appreciate Mr. Trainer so much more, but view a lot of people differently, when after the workout he explains what some of those nicknames mean.  I can’t ever unhear it, y’all.

6)      You wonder if some of these stories heard tonight could be put in a blog post without somehow being sued for breech of something years down the line.  Then you realize…..”Yep, I’ll just put them in a book some day and change the names.”

Have I mentioned lately how much I adore my gym and the characters that come with it??  Sometimes it’s the ONLY thing that gets me through, y’all.

Life.Is.Hilarious.  And, I should add....they really are a great group of sweet hearted guys....but let's be honest.....they're still guys.

Conversations with Mr. Trainer: The Non-Gym Edition

I’m not one to relax.  It’s not in my vocabulary.  I like to think I can, but have been reminded by a lot of folks that I just can’t do it.  If something happens….especially with someone I care about deeply, I WILL obsess about it until it’s resolved.  My obsession was nuts on this one, because it matters in many different ways.

So, for those of you that read my Saturday blog, this is the Part 1 (because there's always a part 2) edition response.  48 hours of silence and today, I get a phone call around 10am while at work.

The phone rings….

Me: (I see his name and my heart drops.  So….I immediately go shut my office door and the feeling of dread creeps up.) “Hello?”

Mr. Trainer: “GOOD MORNING, MOFABULOUS!”

Me: “Ummm….hey, (insert his name here.)”

Mr. Trainer:  “First: I’m not mad at you.  I figured you had stuff going on, so I let it be.  I’ll make you spill it later.”

Me:  “  Ok…. “

Mr. Trainer: “Yeah, I know you worry too much.  So I’m calling you this morning because I KNOW you’re worried about seeing me tomorrow night.  Now you don’t have to be weird.  You're welcome.”

Me:  “ Well, thankssoverymuch for letting me worry all weekend!  I even had a dream that you would never allow me to train with you again!”

Mr. Trainer:  “Geez.  Women.  Can’t live without them and can’t stop loving them.  Drama, much?  GAH.  So, are you ok?”

Me: “Hmmm…..well, I can say that I will be.”

Mr. Trainer:  “Well, good – because if not, I’d just have to come see you and give you a wedgie or something.”

Me:  “Gross.  Boys are disgusting.”

Mr.  Trainer: “Yes.  Yes, we are.   I shall see you tomorrow and we will dominate.  Cardio and smart eating today, right?  RIGHT?  We’ve got this!”

Me:  “Yeah…ok.  GOD.  Stop telling me what to do!”

Mr. Trainer: "Aaaannnnd, she's back."

And……………just like that all is right with the world again.  FACT:  The difference between men and women = We have feelings……….and they equate them to wedgies.

Lord, help me.

Pretty Sure 'Big Sandy' was the clincher....

When you go through high school and college we tend to have a “group” of friends.  As life goes on and we have to start our adult lives some of those friendships taper off and you begin to meet new people through whatever avenue – jobs, family, hobbies, etc. 

And if you’re really lucky you keep those old friendships through all of the new stages of your life. 

I’m sure the first time we met it was probably through school.  We lived in the same town, grew up in the same school district.  But we really became friends through church. 

We can be complete opposites at times.  She’s super responsible – I suppose because when you’re a wife and a mom you have to be.  I’m not a wife or mom so responsibility can go by the wayside now and then.

She’s also one of the funniest people I know. 

On this, we have our strongest bond.  We both love to laugh and find things appropriate and not so appropriate so hilarious sometimes we just can’t take it.  There have been many a times where we’ve gone into fits of giggles when even the people we’re with have no idea what is going on.

She was my roommate at youth camp every summer during high school.  The stories we told late at night or the giggles that came with it or the story of “Big Sandy” that we made up when we found out an inmate from a mental hospital had escaped nearby were of legend.  We would wake up half terrified/half hoping he would be propped up on the roof outside our window because how cool of a story would that be?

We’ve been through life’s hardest times together too.  She’s the first person I called when after years of battling a brain tumor with my mom – life decided to be extra special and we found out she had breast cancer too.  I’ll never forget her words to me on that phone call:  “I’m so sorry.  I guess now we have to wear pink?”  Then we laughed.  Because we had always discussed how the “pink” cancer gets so much more attention than the others.  Life’s big joke was now on me….and she understood it perfectly.

I’ve seen her go through her hard times too.  How strong she was sitting on a waiting room floor all night while her husband was in a life-saving surgery.  How she never left his side in the months of recovery after.  How she continued to love him through it.  How they continue to make such a full life for themselves perhaps because of that night.

These experiences are why we both understand the need for dark humor – because sometimes you’re just all cried out and that’s all that is left.

I heard her son’s first cries when she called us in the hospital waiting room right after he was born.  I was witness to her and her husband giving him his first bath that night.  And, I adore that her daughter may look like her Daddy but has the precociousness of her Mother.

We know that even when life gets in the way and so busy that sometimes we forget the important things, that we can always circle back to our friendship for respite and things are exactly as we left them. 

For this, I am forever thankful.

Funny, beautiful, kind, hard-headed, has the strength of 10 thousand angels, and today she’s finally as old as I am.

I’ve decided I’d like to be her when I grow up.

Happy Birthday sweet friend – I love you!  

Hills, and Grief, and Clouds........and Sunshine.

I just adore my neighborhood.   Made up of steep hills, towering trees, and large wooded lots…..It’s an old neighborhood of ranch houses all built in the 50’s.  Now, what a single girl, not yet 30, was thinking when she bought a large house for her and her 8 lb dog, I don’t quite remember, actually.  But I love it anyways.

There’s a terrifying steep hill on one of the streets that even when you take it in the car you sometimes wonder if you’re just going to slide slowly backwards.  On the occasional times that I walk in the neighborhood, I always purposely avoid it because 1) I’m just not that sure I wouldn’t die or injure myself somehow 2) I’d be mortified and never leave my house again if someone witnessed me going out like that.  It’s how my mind works.

It’s a fairly quiet neighborhood with the occasional welcome sounds from the neighborhood kids playing basketball, or street hockey, or riding their bikes.  Especially on days like today. 

Perfect weather here today in Dallas, Texas.  If you’ve ever lived here for any amount of time you know we can go from ice to 80 degrees all in a 24 hour period.

And for those of us that have lived our entire lives in this fair city, we KNOW when the jig is up.  THIS weekend is the one we have to cherish.  It’s the one where we should go do ALL THE THINGS we can outside because it’s our last bite of Spring weather….and we’ve barely even begun the season.  We KNOW that this is our last taste before things start to burn like hell-fire.  Where we put on that cute sundress and flip-flops and have the perfect make-up and hair and then we go outside and proceed to sweat in places we never knew we could.  The makeup runs, the hair explodes, and we completely forget how much we prayed for warmer weather during this last winter.

So, today was one of those last days to be enjoyed, yet mine started out like one of a depressing winter season.

I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed.  Up at 5am with the mind just spinning all sorts of thoughts and bemoaning the fact that I had a 9am training session.

So I sent a text and canceled.  I let the dark win.

I’ve yet to receive a response from Mr. Trainer.  The silence is deafening.  And, I know he’s disappointed, but not nearly as much as me.

After falling back asleep off and on for a few more hours, I finally faced it.

I can feel it starting to happen again. 

The dark cloud of depression that starts to approach.  It’s a cloak that if you even begin to entertain the thought of wrapping yourself in it, it takes that one shot and grabs you by the throat.  And you never can really put your finger on what makes it appear.  It just does.

But, this time it was different.  You see, when you go through dark times like that – you rarely ever know you’re in it until it’s so out of control you can’t even put one foot in front of the other.  

This time it screamed at me.  A thousand sad thoughts, all in my voice of course, telling me how I’ll never change.  How I’ll never succeed at becoming healthy like I want.  How I’ll never figure out what I’m supposed to DO with this writing thing.  How I’ll never find someone that appreciates me just for what I am and not what I can give them. 

It was LOUD, and I heard it and recognized it.  Like an old lover, sometimes we run back because it’s familiar.  It’s what we know.  And that dark is not nearly as frightening as the one we don’t know.

THAT is the difference, this time.  I’ve come to know myself enough to listen to it.  And to know that the power to change it is all me and no one else.

It’s not Mr. Trainer’s responsibility to beg me to show up.  It’s not my friend’s responsibility to just know when I need to get out of my house.  It’s not my family’s responsibility to come rescue me.  Even IF every single person in this category would, it’s not on them.

The responsibility lies with me.  And I owe it to myself to show up for life.  To show up for who I WILL be, so help me.

These spurts of depression or thoughts of failure are kind of like marks in a grieving process.  Grief is dealt with in so many different ways and certainly never have set timelines. 

It may sound strange to some, but I think in all of this change for me I’m grieving.  Grieving for the loss of what I once was…..even if that Old Hag needs to get gone……it’s what I know.  It’s also grief for allowing so much time to be lost while being that person.  And fear for the unknown of what I have in front of me to get to the person I want to be. 

Again, there lies the difference.  I’m listening to my heart and doing something about it….and recognizing why this time.  The grieving process is not over.  And it won’t be the last time that ugly cloud tries to approach.  But, my heart is louder and my head is getting stronger.

So, I got out of bed, put one foot in front of the other.  Made some scrambled eggs…..cuz protein, protein, protein!  Put on some shoes and began to walk.

I needed air.  I needed this beautiful weather and our dear city’s last taste of Spring.  I needed to show up for myself.

So I walked.  Up and down those steep streets, dodging the neighborhood kids on their bikes, watching them laugh and fight over a basketball game, waving at the old man who sits on his porch all day.

And then came THE HILL.  I did what I always do and started to make a turn to avoid it, but then I stopped.

I could easily have gone the other way and still have accomplished what I came to do.  I got myself outside, I got some exercise, and I breathed the fresh air.  I certainly didn’t HAVE to take the hill to prove something.  There wouldn’t be anyone to see unless I did something monumentally stupid.  Because there’s always someone there when that happens.

So, why couldn’t I move?? 

Y’all, I have NO idea why.  Nor do I know what possessed me to start moving again.......in the direction of the hill.

So, Mofabulous, did you walk the hill or not?

Nope.

I RAN THAT BITCH.

#cuetherockymusic

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