Well what do you know, I did hit the gym!
Remember my trainer pal? How could you forget…
Getting ready for work this morning, and knowing I’d have a great deal of free time since the students weren’t actually in class today due to career day, I packed a gym bag. I’m serious about getting back what I had gained. It wasn’t, in my estimation, a huge gain but the loss of that gain seemed phenomenal. I’m probably just imagining that I’ve gained 800 lbs. Wasn’t it just seven weeks ago I ran a 5K? And finished it?!
Trainer texted me. “You bring your kettlebell because I’ve got an awesome plan for you today!”
He sounded so excited.
Funny thing is, I had thought about it but genuinely forgotten the iron.
“Sorry, man, I forgot it,” thinking it would get me off the hook.
“Tough. You’ll use mine.”
Crap, his is 35 lbs. and he swings it with ease like it’s a balloon. Mine’s 25 lbs. and I’m so freakin’ weak.
You know what amazed me in this exchange? He hadn’t forgotten about me. At just the moment I was preparing to jump back into this thing and face my lifelong goal of getting shredded, thinking I’d be on my own since I had clearly exhausted his kindness, he let me know he was still somehow and somewhat invested.
Now the big question is, is he still invested enough to see me all the way through this goal? And am I invested enough to take whatever
shit advice he gives me and just freakin do it?
What’s the goal, you ask? Geez, I thought I said it already. Getting shredded. Could we just do a whole head transplant between me and trainer? Probably not (cursed lack of scientific advancement) but you get the idea. I know I’ll have to workout and run and whatnot for like 20 years according to him. But I still think he was just testing my resolve when he said that. I think I could get in his shape by Easter, right? In fact, today my bodyfat caliper arrived in the mail. Right after work I pinched myself (literally). Turns out I’m at 14.5%. That’s exciting I think. I’m not even sure I measured correctly but if I did it’s not as bad as the 25 I thought I’d be. So the trainer is going to take me down to 10 by the end of Lent. Yes, suddenly my dream of physical perfection and its subsequent promise of good health, scads of energy, the undying ogling from my wife, and the respect of everyone were within a six-week reach.
Did I mention that I was taking a narcotic for an abcess tooth today?