This morning, and for the second time this week, I just about walked out of something. And the reasons would have been strangely similar (almost vomiting) although the causes were drastically different (sick of not understanding anything that Diana's been talking about the last few weeks and sick after my first session with the personal trainer). But I didn't weasel out of either situation, and I guess that I'm better for it.
I was not too enthused with the notion of going to see the personal trainer. All these horrible (paranoid...I'll admit it) fears from elementary and high school came rushing back. It's time for the shocking confession: I was never a jock. In fact, the whole idea of team sports greatly unnerved me throughout my childhood. We weren't raised to be interested in sports. My mother wasn't interested, and my dad wasn't around much...he worked long hours. It wouldn't have mattered, anyhow, because he wasn't interested in them either. You would think that coming from a family of six boys, that sports would be a popular thing. But no. They weren't. I guess that his family moved around too much for any of the kids to be involved. And I don't think that either of my grandfathers were into sports, either. My dad's dad didn't do much, and my mom's dad was a farmer. Ummm, I've forgotten what I was saying.
Right. No sports. Physical activity (ie sports) wasn't encouraged in my family. My sister and I could both read early, and well. We did well at school. We played piano. Our fingers and our brains may have been coordinated, but the rest of our bodies just spazzed a lot. This made us, and me especially (being a boy) realllllly popular at school. I was almost always the last one picked for teams in P.E. I was almost always the first one to be picked on for screwing up. No wonder I joined the library club. In fact, that was the only team activity I was involved with.
So, P.E. and all things sporty meant trouble for me. Eventually, I developed a paranoia/hate on for jocks. This dislike was solidified when I went to college, and soon realized that team players got first pick for classes, even though they weren't the smartest people on campus. This seemed HUGELY unfair to me (and still does), and I really resented it. Just because someone can throw and/or catch a ball doesn't mean that they should get first choice of classes.
Where the hell am I going with this?
Oh, right...the first session with the personal trainer. I was really dreading it. And when I met him, I thought "shit, he has a faux-hawk...this is not going to go well, and I have committed to this thing for at least 6 months." He's everything I loathe in a sporto (I had to do that...this entry was feeling very "The Breakfast Club". I really related to Anthony Micheal Hall's character. And I thought the Ally Sheedy character was too much of a characature...what a thankless role.). He's fit. He's enthusiastic. He's really into fitness. The whole group is. That's all the others were talking about in the background. It drove me nuts! I wanted to interrupt and ask them if any of them had read a good book lately. I know, that sounds totally stereotypical...like jocks don't/can't read. I'm not suggesting that. What I am suggesting is that there are things other than sports.
Anyhow, he was alright, I guess. He was fakely enthusiastic while he made me run around the gym like a fool, and balance on as bosu ball (look it up people...you have the technology) while holding 15 pound dumbells and doing squats. IT'S SO MUCH DAMN FUN! Eh, perhaps I'll benefit from it. These guys must know what they're talking about. They apparently train the Canucks. By the end of the session, my legs were shaking so bad that I didn't think that I'd be able to drive myself to a happy place.
But here's the reality: I was feeling so sick after the assessment this morning (what the hell is the workout going to be like!), that I had to sit in my car for 15 minutes just to compose myself. Then I drove to Stanley Park, where I took another 15 minute break. Then I was able to drive the rest of the way to the magazine, where I finally got to shower because the gym doesn't have any freaking showers. What the hell kind of gym is it without showers!?!?! Nevertheless, I didn't throw up. By mid-afternoon, I was able to eat. And I didn't step on the gas instead of the brake (and vice versa). So maybe this will work out. Stay tuned to find out.
I was not too enthused with the notion of going to see the personal trainer. All these horrible (paranoid...I'll admit it) fears from elementary and high school came rushing back. It's time for the shocking confession: I was never a jock. In fact, the whole idea of team sports greatly unnerved me throughout my childhood. We weren't raised to be interested in sports. My mother wasn't interested, and my dad wasn't around much...he worked long hours. It wouldn't have mattered, anyhow, because he wasn't interested in them either. You would think that coming from a family of six boys, that sports would be a popular thing. But no. They weren't. I guess that his family moved around too much for any of the kids to be involved. And I don't think that either of my grandfathers were into sports, either. My dad's dad didn't do much, and my mom's dad was a farmer. Ummm, I've forgotten what I was saying.
Right. No sports. Physical activity (ie sports) wasn't encouraged in my family. My sister and I could both read early, and well. We did well at school. We played piano. Our fingers and our brains may have been coordinated, but the rest of our bodies just spazzed a lot. This made us, and me especially (being a boy) realllllly popular at school. I was almost always the last one picked for teams in P.E. I was almost always the first one to be picked on for screwing up. No wonder I joined the library club. In fact, that was the only team activity I was involved with.
So, P.E. and all things sporty meant trouble for me. Eventually, I developed a paranoia/hate on for jocks. This dislike was solidified when I went to college, and soon realized that team players got first pick for classes, even though they weren't the smartest people on campus. This seemed HUGELY unfair to me (and still does), and I really resented it. Just because someone can throw and/or catch a ball doesn't mean that they should get first choice of classes.
Where the hell am I going with this?
Oh, right...the first session with the personal trainer. I was really dreading it. And when I met him, I thought "shit, he has a faux-hawk...this is not going to go well, and I have committed to this thing for at least 6 months." He's everything I loathe in a sporto (I had to do that...this entry was feeling very "The Breakfast Club". I really related to Anthony Micheal Hall's character. And I thought the Ally Sheedy character was too much of a characature...what a thankless role.). He's fit. He's enthusiastic. He's really into fitness. The whole group is. That's all the others were talking about in the background. It drove me nuts! I wanted to interrupt and ask them if any of them had read a good book lately. I know, that sounds totally stereotypical...like jocks don't/can't read. I'm not suggesting that. What I am suggesting is that there are things other than sports.
Anyhow, he was alright, I guess. He was fakely enthusiastic while he made me run around the gym like a fool, and balance on as bosu ball (look it up people...you have the technology) while holding 15 pound dumbells and doing squats. IT'S SO MUCH DAMN FUN! Eh, perhaps I'll benefit from it. These guys must know what they're talking about. They apparently train the Canucks. By the end of the session, my legs were shaking so bad that I didn't think that I'd be able to drive myself to a happy place.
But here's the reality: I was feeling so sick after the assessment this morning (what the hell is the workout going to be like!), that I had to sit in my car for 15 minutes just to compose myself. Then I drove to Stanley Park, where I took another 15 minute break. Then I was able to drive the rest of the way to the magazine, where I finally got to shower because the gym doesn't have any freaking showers. What the hell kind of gym is it without showers!?!?! Nevertheless, I didn't throw up. By mid-afternoon, I was able to eat. And I didn't step on the gas instead of the brake (and vice versa). So maybe this will work out. Stay tuned to find out.
posted by kuzcolike at
9:34 PM
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