For almost three years I've been working out with George as my personal trainer. In three years I have become stronger than I was when I started. . . .a lot stronger. George has been on my case for almost three years. He makes me work harder than I ever wanted to work. He kills me. On Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday mornings he kills me in a group personal training class. On Tuesdays he kills me in a weight lifting class. On Thursdays he kills me in a cardio class. And he wishes he could kill me in the Tuesday/Thursday core training class. But I'm too smart to turn up for those. How many times can a person be killed in a week and still be alive?
And what I have appreciated about George is that never once has he ever treated me nor any of the other men and women in my age bracket like senior citizens. Never once have we heard, "Well, for a woman in your 60's, 5 pound weights should be enough." No, it's more like, "You'll be ready for 25's next week." Never once has he watched me huffing and puffing on the spinner and said, "You're working too hard. You'd better stop now." It's more like "Does that feel good? Good! Now give me another quarter turn of tension!"
I'm a strong believer in mind/body connection. When I'm in an environment where I'm expected to keep upping the intensity, then I can up the intensity.
This is how 5 Star Health and Fitness works. Constantly upping the game. Constantly making progress. Sweating and cursing and being in agony over and over. And reaping the rewards.
But George is also one of my best friends. Because around here, in Nelson County, it's not unheard of for your trainer to also offer free moving help. He's helped lots of 5 Star members move. He will help me move hopefully within the month. He helped me do demolition on the Crappy Little House. Which, by the way, is located right across the street from 5 Star. In return I let him have all the bushes around the house for use at his lake house. He also got my Christmas tree and some of the other stuff I was getting rid of last spring. We're neighbors and friends. And we do stuff for each other.
And last week when I was sick and missed several workouts in a row, George called to make sure I was all right. And he offered to bring me anything that I would have needed. And he would have done it if I was the kind of person who can ask for help, which I'm not.
So this morning I finally showed up for my first workout since the sickness of the past week. George knew I had come in twice this week, and not been able to stay. And he knew I had not worked out in a week. And that I was quite possibly weak, and still prone to coughing and snuffling. And he put all of his challenges on hold. Because he understands every single person who works out. He knows what's going on in their lives. He knows what they did at their last workout, and he already knows what he plans to do at the next one. Every single person is on an individual program. And he knows personalities. He knows I will give him a load of crap throughout the workout as I resist the current challenge. He also knows I'm kidding.
Today he said I was going to work out very easy. He also knew that I would want to go as hard as I could to make up for lost time. My first assignment. . . the elliptical machine. . . . 1200 strides. I'm about 3 minutes into the workout when he looks up and says something I have never heard him say: "Ruth. . . you need to slow down." He told me to slow down several more times. Because he knows I can get overzealous. And he knows I'm not ready. So in this case, he keeps pulling me back so that I can ease back into this workout routine.
This is a great trainer. A great friend. This is someone who knows exactly who I am. Having someone know exactly who I am is a rare occurrence for me. I'm a sucker for anyone who takes the time to know me. And who has my best interest at heart.
Today George was right, and I was wrong. And I told him that during the workout. Something he NEVER hears from me. So he made me said it again:
"George. . . you are right. And I am wrong."
I will never live this down. But thank you, George. Thank you for helping me get younger each year. Thank you for not wanting me to hurt myself. Thank you for not treating me like a little old lady. Thank you for pushing me harder than I would ever push myself. Within a month, I will be able to walk across the street for my workouts. Part of the allure of the Crappy Little House!
No comments:
Post a Comment