Conditioning

Oh how I hate it. I always have--even at my peak of physical prowess at age six or so. It seems unfair to put this much effort into building muscles and still not be able to run like a gazelle, or run at all, for that matter. Jesse, the trainer I work with, seems like an affable guy, but today he told us that he had experienced his first fatality in his training classes. Well, that gave me pause. Even after I realized that he had meant to say casualty, his description of the blood and facial swelling confirmed that this is not a benign activity, and that I was right to refuse to jump on the squishy ball.

Most weeks, my goal is to try to keep up with my fellow trainees, one of whom kickboxes in her spare time and does push ups on her toes instead of her knees. Last week I mentioned that I would like to have enough aerobic capacity to talk on the phone while working out. The group, while usually supportive of my efforts, turned on me as one to tell me that if a person can talk on the phone, that person is not actually "working out" and should pick up the pace. I took that as permission to be too breathless to talk while doing any kind of exercise.

Here is what I hate: crab walking, bear walking, imitating animal activity in general, doing 100 push ups right after lunch, and being unable to raise my arms above my shoulders for the next two days afterwards. Here is what I like: draping myself over a large exercise ball and letting my body go limp.

What keeps me coming back? The satisfaction I feel when it is all over and I don't have to feel guilty about exercising for at least two days. Pathetic, yes, but who knows? If I keep it up, someday I might be able to jump on the squishy ball while talking on the phone.