152 Minute Workout

Let’s see, how to begin this post…

I died last night. Okay, not a literal death where my heart stopped and brain activity ceased, but I did have to fight to keep my conscious self tethered to my physical body. You ever have a goal in mind, but you don’t really understand the severity of work required or grueling sacrifice it takes to realize that goal? That was me yesterday as I was afforded several epiphanies and admonishing myself for being in that situation as my life flashed before my eyes.

So Anxious

So, check it! Recently I posted about starting over again with my exercise journey on social media. My nephew, who looks like he should model for fitness magazines, commented offering up his personal training services at a rate I shouldn’t refuse. Even though I was wary to accept his offer because I had heard about his intensity, I quietly messaged him behind the scenes to discuss the logistics of training. That was last week. After plans were made and a date set, I was filled with anxiety and apprehension leading up to the workout.

The “Warmup”

Hun-tee! I was right! When he told me the warmup was going to seem like a workout, he ain’t neva lied!! Oh my gosh, Becky! I had to start off with running a mile straight through. Ummm, I can’t tell you when the last time I let that happen. But surprisingly I made it through the mile run in under 14 minutes and I felt proud of myself and accomplished for not having run a mile since heck was a pup. But the next set of warmup exercises killed me! It was 4 circuits of FIVE different exercises. Why???? Why so many circuits in a warmup?? 20 reps of each too. I told him “But I’m a beginner.” He said, “This is beginner.”

Doubt Creeps In

So, after I completed the first circuit I started noticing my anxiety was creeping up. After the second circuit and trying to catch my breath, I said out loud “I think I’m having a panic attack.” I managed to get it together and control my breathing so I could go on with the third round. At this point I’m questioning why I was there. I second guessed ALL decisions that led me to being there. I started to think that I needed to just sit down on the body positivity wagon. It’s not like people know my flaws. I hardly leave the house since the pandemic began and when I do, I wear clothes that camouflage my insecurities.

Round 3

During the third round I knew it was getting intense because I started involuntarily passing gas. TMI? Well, NFG! I was in such excruciating pain at my muscles protesting their predicament that I failed to be embarrassed and didn’t care if anyone heard it over the loud music and fans throughout the gym. At this point I began to question if I was going to survive. At the end of the third circuit, I was in a full-on panic attack. I was dizzy, I couldn’t hear, nor could I seem to catch my breath. It felt like I was trying to pull air into my nostrils through skinny coffee straws. When I attempted to pull air in through my mouth it was like it was bypassing my windpipe completely and going into the unknown. Then, instead of seeing stars, things started to get black, and I was seeing gray boxes. What the heck was that about?!? Maybe the boxes symbolized the coffins that I was creeping ever so closely to with each circuit of this warmup.

At this point I know I’m dying, and all I can think about is that I cannot fall out on this floor in front of the entire gym with its open floor plan. I had to find a seat which happened to be some sort of exercise contraption that I nearly fell out of and hit the floor anyway. I managed to maintain my balance, get myself calm, and try to focus on breathing. It took me entirely too long, but I got it together and stood up for the last round.

Internal Struggles

See for anyone starting out, if you don’t already know, the real battle is with yourself. At that point the conversation in my head was, “Forget all this! I’m not trying to die to be in shape. Who am I trying to impress? Do I really want to go on with this struggle?” But, looking at my nephew who would not break eye contact, I could tell that he was used to dealing with people and their shenanigans. Seeing others self-doubt had no affect on his faith in any body’s ability. So, I rocked with it and kept on. It HURT. My God it hurt. I asked him why was he treating me that way? I wanted to know what had I done to him as a child! I wanted to know if I had not been good to him. He laughed, and kept on counting me through each rep.

Finally, the warmup was done. By the time I got to what he considered the actual workout, which was weight training. While difficult, I could handle the 2 reps of three zones for strength training. But I had to stop and have a conversation with him because I could tell that in his head, he was seriously struggling to not pile on a bunch of different machines for me to strength train with. I could see the internal conflict at limiting me to just three different zones to strengthen.

The Easy Part?

When I completed the weight training segment I happily asked, “Is it time to stretch and cool down now?” He said yes, but he had this smirk on his face when he responded in the affirmative. What in the mid-evil torture was going on last night?!? Lawd, Lawd, Lawd!

Lil muscular ass nephew felt the need to assist me in a seated butterfly stretch by pressing my knees down to the floor. I began to whimper. I would’ve cried if I hadn’t sweat out all fluid from my body during the warmup. Towards the end of the 20 second count, I couldn’t take it anymore and began to throw bows to nephew’s head, but the torture had stopped. After that he had me hold onto some contraption to stretch my back out and “open me up” to combat any shrinkage. Look dude, if I gotta go through all this I’m okay with losing an inch.

There were a few more stretches that I had to make it through. One of the stretches he had me perform was with my right leg up parallel to a stabilizing platform while standing on the left with knee bent and chin to chest. In this position I could feel my right ovary! I lie to you not and am not being overly dramatic. I thought that thing was going to pop right on the gym floor.

Alas, pain and torture (PT) was over. I died and came back to life. For my hard work, and maybe to give me a reason to come back, nephew blessed me with 20 minutes on the hydrotherapy massage table. I need one of those in my life! Somebody please donate to my cause.