Superman vs. Lois Lane / revisiting the stinkin thinkin machine

So….

First real date with Superman was yesterday. I was going to post something about it but I wanted to wait until today so that I could experience the full effect of the abuse he put me (Lois Lane) through.

By abuse I of course mean love abuse love abuse…alright love.

First of all, he calls these things my friends, I call them my enemy (Lex Lugers) and I’m pretty sure they will NEVER make it into the category of being my friend.

It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I could just walk around carrying them like a bag of groceries. Superman seems to think it wouldn’t be advantageous to do it my way so we do it his way:  Lunges.  Forward, backward and sidewaysish (yes I just said sidewaysish).

Okay seriously people, if you want me to consider a long-lasting relationship with you try to at least take me to dinner first and tell me how beautiful I am. Do.Not.Start.With.These!

Oh looky here, Lex Luger returns in the form of these little beauties.

My idea: Hey, thanks for the pillow, I’m just gonna lay down right here.

Superman’s idea: Tie two together (heavy little buggers) and drag them back and forth the entire length of the gym. Oh and for giggles, tell me he doesn’t like to walk so to pick up the pace. To top it off he thought it would be just dandy to repeat the entire process 3 times (lunge lunge lunge, pull pull pull, lunge lunge lunge, pull pull pull – you get the idea).

This was all in the first 10 minutes.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

You’ve got to be kidding me?

For 60 minutes he had me doing things that just seems crazy. My first set of Lex Luger friends? Yea, he thought I should carry them up the stairs and when I finished he thought it would be a good idea to do it again, but take the stairs two at a time. He wants to throw the Lex Luger ball back and forth. I think “great” I can do that. He wants me to do it while balancing on some half ball contraption. Not so great.

He asked, I performed. I wanted to punch him, but I performed. I sweated like I’ve never sweated before, but I performed. I only cried once for a very brief second at the very end of our first session but perform I did. It took forever for the hour to come and go.

When it was over, I didn’t want it to end.

I didn’t want it to end.

It’s one thing to physically push yourself (one more lap, one more minute). It’s something else to be physically pushed by someone else and not give up. He may have been testing me to see how far I could go to get a base line. I set that base line right where he wanted me too.

He helped me discover a new set of muscles today: The butt muscles!!! They are sore today. Not the kind of sore where you can’t sit down at all. Rather the kind where you were sitting, you get up to do something and when you return to your seat your butt muscles say “HELLO THERE”.

We have a date next Monday.

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When one wakes up in the morning too sore to run because of previous work out with trainer, you’d think one would smile and reminisce at all the hard work experienced right?

Not if you’re a regular visitor to the stinkin thinkin machine.

My thought process is so out of whack that if I were to step out of my head and actually watch my thoughts go by I would probably choke on my own spit over the insanity.

How one goes from “Hey, great workout with the trainer. Not bad for your first time. Being sore is part of the process” to “You wouldn’t be too sore to run if you were thinner and stronger. Way to be lazy.” in a matter of seconds is almost incomprehensible.

It happened to me and I almost fell for it.

Almost.

Yes I tried to sabotage my workout.

Old behaviors require new tactics to over come. I didn’t run today because I was too sore. I almost didn’t do anything. Almost let myself feel bad about my workout the day before and my lack of working out this morning. I almost fell for the persuasiveness of the stinkin thinkin machine.

Then I went swimming.

I swam longer than I ever had. Most of the time I swim 40 – 50 laps for 30 – 45 minutes. Today I swam 70 laps for 60 minutes. I may have been too sore to run, but I wasn’t too sore to kick that stinkin thinkin machine’s ass.