Winning something for FREE just by signing up has once again been my downfall. I learned my lesson years ago about those freebie drawings at the county fair. I never won anything except sales calls from roofers and window installation experts. But a couple of days ago I was at my exercise gym and like a fly drawn toward a spider’s silken web of death, I approached a small table set up in the corner. On the table was a jar with little folded pieces of paper inside, and beside it was a sign that said, “Win FREE sessions with a personal trainer!”
I don’t know about you, but the title “personal trainer” sounds very posh and Hollywood to me. Only important people like movie stars have personal trainers; basically someone to exercise for them and make sure they look fantastic in front of a camera. I’d like that.
I always wondered how that worked, but figured the star was paying a trainer cause obviously it was easier than doing all the work themselves.
So I put my name into the jar.
If I’d known that having a personal trainer would make the pain of childbirth seem like a paper cut…I’d still be able to walk today without clenching my teeth and hanging onto the banister whenever I go up or down the stairs. But I was lulled in by the word FREE.
The muscular, twenty-something, young man told me I’d won three free sessions with him. He informed me that muscle burns fat calories, so I would need to work on building muscle. Up to this point in my life, I was satisfied with the muscle I had, but lately it had turned a mite flabby. So, the dream of muscle in all the right places outweighed my normal common sense, and I did all the leg weight training exercises that he showed me. Toward the end of my thirty-minute session I was feeling a bit wobbly but I knew it would all be worthwhile in the end. This middle-aged woman would be as buff as a 30-year-old movie star without ever seeking out a doctor’s scalpel.
The dream didn’t immediately change into a nightmare, although when I tried to step up on the treadmill after my thirty minutes of weight training and continue my usual workout, I felt paralyzed from the waist down. My legs refused to cooperate and speed up into a run, and I ended up doing some kind of embarrassing walk/stumble for about ten minutes before giving up and limping out to my car. That should have been my first clue that the future did not bode well.
The next day, I just wanted to die.
And today, the second day after my torture training, I’m still unable to tie my shoes or get out of a chair without groaning like Frankenstein.
Was my FREE session worth it? Will I return for my 2nd FREE session and do to my top half what I did to my bottom half? Is being fit really important to me or should I be satisfied to live a quiet, painless, flabby life, eating donuts and watching buff movie stars on a big screen television? These are the questions I am now faced with.
Oh, the pain and agony of defeat…