Gym…even the word makes me nauseous.
I have always hated anything even remotely related to the gym…as long as I can remember.
When I was in high school, there was a particular torture they compelled upon us. It was called “the walk/jog.” Anyone who reads this and went to high school with me will understand. The teacher would make us walk for 2 minutes and then jog for 2 minutes in the first 10 or 20 minutes of class. Looking at it on paper makes it seem so harmless.
But, I feared the walk jog.
Well, first off, in high school I had the biggest boobs you had ever seen…no…really. By the time I was a sophomore in college, I was an “I” cup (yes….it’s a real size) and had a breast reduction…5 pounds off each side. Yeah…thank you genetics. So, I never had the cute little bras my friends had. In fact, I couldn’t even buy my bras in a store. I had to order them online. And they looked like something my grandmother would wear. An “over the shoulder boulder holder” sounds sexy, compared to what I was wearing.
I would wait to change in the farthest dressing room in the corner. For class, I didn’t have the cute yoga pants and matching tops they make now. I think I wore my dad’s old sweats and a Winnie the Pooh tee shirt. Underneath, I didn’t wear 1, but 2 sports bras. Despite all that, my boobs still hit my face every time I jogged a step and I constantly ended up with bloody skin tears underneath them from all the “bouncing.”
I was also so out of shape that I could barely breath after jogging for the 2 minutes. I would get extremely red in the face, couldn’t talk, and would sweat so bad I would feel it dripping down my back. I couldn’t even catch my breath when I got to walk. Oh, and if I slowed down too much, I would hear “PICK IT UP, CONNORS!!!” yelled from across the room. That wasn’t even my correct last name.
I can honestly say it was one of the most embarrassing things in my life. And it happened…every other day…for four years straight.
So, one of the points they make when you have weight loss surgery is that you NEED to exercise. It is an important part of the plan. Just as important as protein and fluids. I fought back my “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder” from the walk/jog. Ok,…sure…suck it up and deal. But there was one problem.
I didn’t know how to exercise.
I know how dumb that sounds. Who doesn’t know how to exercise? Me. Right here. I was uncoordinated, overweight, and pretty much avoided anything the caused me to sweat at all. But I knew how important it was, so I needed to find someone to teach me…I needed a personal trainer.
So, about a month before my surgery I joined a gym. It wasn’t huge, didn’t have tons of equipment, and it was a little out of the way. So why did I join? Because when I walked in, there were only about 3 people in there. And they were all fat little old ladies. Perfect.
I started pre-op with really just some walking on the treadmill and weights. Beth, the lovely woman who signed me up, showed me a workout plan to help me before my surgery. But guess who passed out the first time she worked out with her? Yeah…one of my biggest gym fears happened…only one day in. But I still went, figuring I really couldn’t do anything more embarrassing.
A few weeks after my surgery, I slowly went back to the gym. Since I was still a little sore, I just walked very slowly on the treadmill. As I lost weight, I found I could go faster and not feel like I was going to die. Awesome.
Finally, this past Tuesday, I started my personal training sessions with Beth. She is a peach. I have never enjoyed working out with someone before, always afraid I was being judged. But I really don’t feel that way when I work out with her. She works me hard, makes sure I’m doing things right, and encourages me to get to my goals. It’s awesome. Beth told me that by the end of our 12 sessions she wants to see me running. I laughed at her, my immediate fat girl reaction…but secretly, I’m just so excited.
Today, I’m sore…but for the first time it feels good.