November 10, 2008

Back Off

I was seriously trying to talk myself out of going to the gym today. I kept making excuses. Then I talked to Mr. BBM. He told me I should just go. It's going to be uncomfortable working out there until I get used to it and there's only one way to get used to it. Drag my butt there; just go.

Part of why I didn't want to go is because after two sessions with a personal trainer, I was getting the hard sell, and they were trying to convince me that I needed to pay a fortune to work out with a trainer on a regular basis. As much as I'd like to do that, we just bought a house. I don't have money growing on trees. In fact, I have no trees. Hell, I barely have grass as this point.

Today was the first day I had to see the trainer since I didn't call him back. Of course, he was right there as I walked in. I told him money is tight and I'm waiting to see how much of a credit I have at karate from my year on hiatus until I make any decisions. He shrugged it off and said he was there if I needed his help.

So, I got right to it. Today was legs and I spent time working on PT like things and also doing some weight lifting to build up the muscles in my legs. I had spent about 40 minutes working my legs and abs and then walked on an incline for 20 minutes on the treadmill.

When I was finished, I saw my trainer and thought I'd ask him if he could help me hook up some kind of weight lifting harness so that I could do some exercises that my physical therapist taught me. He and about three other trainers started scratching their heads. No one had a harness. They just had these stretchy bands. It wasn't working. At one point, there was one band wrapped around my waist, another wrapped around me being held tight by a trainer behind me and a whole mess of trainers watching.

The one trainer, who always seems a little sour asked me why I wanted to do that exercise. I told him it had really helped me get my leg stronger when I was going to PT. He asked me what I had done and when I told him I had surgery for my ACL in December, he started getting on my case. "You should be doing deep squats by now on that knee. You're babying that knee too much." He wouldn't shut up. He had some company.

Since I always take the high road, I fired back, "How many trainers does it take to hook up one harness?" I told him that my surgeon doesn't want me doing deep knee bends and that I had an overuse injury. I'm anything but a slacker when it comes to getting my leg back in shape. I resented his little comment that quickly began to feel like a public stoning. Here were a bunch of guys with leg muscles the size of my whole body, telling me and my stingbean leg that my PT doesn't know anything, and they want me to sign a long-term contract so I can take this kind of abuse weekly?

At one point, the out of line trainer asked me how I had hurt my knee. "At karate while sparring," I said. The trainer I had worked out with last week shot the guy a look that told him I'd probably be more than happy to snap kick his head off. He would have been right.

During the debate, one of the trainers disappeared and came back with his own personal weight lifting harness. He handed it to me. "Try this," he said. It worked perfectly. He began asking me about my injury and what types of exercises I was doing. He told me that he's a trainer who trains athletes, many who've had ACL reconstruction. He was rattling off statistics and talking about the differences between women and men and why this happens to women more often. He told me he could teach me some exercises that would really help strengthen my leg to prevent it from ever happening again.

Unfortunately, the KidZone was closing and I had to go grab Lil C. When I was putting her shoes on, I realized he had followed me. He told me he'd be happy to show me some exercises later this week, so I made an appointment with him. It's free. I'm just hoping I don't have to endure 30 minutes of post work-out pressure to sign a contract again.