Week 1: Terror on the Treadmill

Last week was my first full week at my new gym.  It can be daunting to walk in and see these crafted bodies running on elliptical machines.  But I took a deep breath, opened the door and walked in to meet my new personal trainer (P.T.).
I had met my P.T. the week before and had left the meeting somewhat overwhelmed.  He was speaking a scary new language which included words such as "squats", "lunges" and "running on purpose". 
I was the person running in the back of the pack during high school P.E. class. I was a cheerleader before it was considered a sport.  I was on the track team for approximately 6 days before I admitted to myself that I was not an athlete.  It was liberating turning in my track sweats and walking out of the funky-smelling locker room. 
Now I was back in a gym by my own choice and I was having gym class flashbacks.  My P.T. approached me and asked me if I was ready for this.  My honest reply sounded kind of shaky coming out of my mouth, "no".  I felt a little like an imposter as I walked around with my exercise clothes and water bottle. 
My P.T. is knowledgeable about my rheumatoid arthritis and my diabetes.  My physician had deemed a trainer medically necessary so I wouldn't hurt myself.  Those who know me well know that I am accident prone and that has nothing to do with my pre-existing conditions.  I regularly loan out my stash of crutches and walking boots.  For a while, the Emergency Department personnel kept my chart on the counter in anticipation of my next visit!
One of my goals as I begin training is to participate and finish a 5K.  I was planning to start slowly, walk the first few and then maybe - just maybe- I could work up to running maybe.  P.T. told me that he would shoot for having me run by the end of April.  I have publically mocked those who run on purpose.  I  don't think God put us at the top of the food chain to run "just because".  If you are being chased by a rabid bear in the forest, that would warrant running.  However, we are short on rabid wild life, so the need to run is pretty minimal.  P.T., however, is certain that  I would be jogging in no time at all. 
The P.T. told me that the first workout would be among the worst that he would lead.  He wanted to see just how far I could go.  Promises of lighter work outs to follow was the only reason I didn't bolt immediately!  I figured it would be a short first session.  I guessed I had about 10 to 15 minutes of fitness inside of me.  He looked like a trustworthy professional, so I put myself entirely into his hands and followed resolutely behind him across the gym. 
I moved from squats to lunges, exercise bike to rowing machine.  Some of you might be surprised to know that I am a little bit stubborn.  I know - shocking!!!  An hour later, I stumbled off the exercise bike after my pulse rate returned to 120 unsure if my legs would carry me all the way to the car.  It felt like my knees would buckle at any moment. 
I awoke the next morning and tentatively put my feet on the edge of the bed.  I really didn't feel to bad.  Maybe I was in better shape than I had given myself credit for!  Then, I stood up and all daydreams of being fit went out the window.  My legs felt full of lead and the msucles were so tight that I could hardly hobble down the stairs.  I was so glad that I was adopting a healthier lifestyle (sarcasm).  Going down stairs and getting up from a chair were new adventures in pain.  The next morning I woke to find that I couldn't straighten my arms as the my forearms were so sore that they would cramp up if I didn't let them hang at my sides at all times. 
Last week was Holy Week, which is the second busiest week of my year.  Our Reflections clown team ministry leads the Good Friday service which requires me to walk, kneel AND get up again and raise my arms above my head.  Perhaps it was bad timing on my part, but there was nothing to do put keep moving forward and pray that Jesus comes back soon!
On Thursday, I walked stiff-legged into the gym hoping that P.T. could "fix" my tight muscles and get me ready to clown the next day.  His prediction was accurate - I had never worked that hard.  I was ready for the forementioned easier workout.  The workout included much of the same exercises interspersed with a few minutes on the exercise bike.  At the end of the workout, he helped me stretch out my legs and arms.  I left feeling a little like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz who had finally found my oil can.
I also left feeling a strange satisfaction that I had the right P.T. - someone who would push me when I wanted to quit. At no time did I have any joint pain, so I was exercising safely and that gives me confidence to work harder.  Maybe it was the endorphins, but I am exciting to see what my limits are.  How far can I push myself?  Can I really run a 5K and not finish in the ER?
I walked into our church exercise class yesterday and put in four miles enjoying the workout.  Dare I say that I am beginning to "like" exercising?  Stay turned for my next post.