I learnt three valuable lessons today:
- Somebody’s youth is not indicator of their motivational ability. In fact, the younger they are, the less likely their enthusiasm has been waned by years of cynicism and disappointment;
- Do not tell a personal trainer that you have been in a gym before and, if you are foolish enough to ignore this advice, never disclose you have previously trained with a PT. If you do disclose this information, be prepared to “find your limits”, which basically means you will be pushed until you cannot breathe;
- The next 12 weeks are going to be hell.
The first half an hour was not too bad, considering what was to come: we discussed goals, I had every inch of my body measured, and photographs were taken. Admittedly, the last part was fairly traumatic: shirtless pictures taken by a giant of a man (and a young giant and that) is right up their with my morbid fear of communal showers. I had flash backs of school day horrors. Fortunately, my trainer is actually quite nice and not so much the ogre I had imagined him to be.
The latter part of the session involved lifting lots of heavy things until I could lift no more, followed by me dragging a wheelless sledge, ladened with weights, up and down a track in the centre of the gym, whist innocent bystanders jumped out of the way as I panted past. I was so exhausted that I didn’t even care how ridiculous I must have looked.
By the end of the hour, I was a wreck. I hobbled to the changing room (no communal showers — phew) and had to lie down on the bench for 20 minutes before I could even contemplate getting changed. I would have felt pathetic; however, when I eventually got up, there was another guy on the opposite bench doing exactly the same thing. “Tough, isn’t it?” he said. “Yes.” I replied as I struggled to lift my hand high enough to open my locker.