"You can do anything for 5 minutes."

Ok, so first, I have to tell you that I’m writing this a month after I started working out.  (Which hey, I’m *still* doing it, so you get at least a month of stories!)  So here’s what I remember about that first training session:

Whining.  Begging.

You know, dignified behaviors.

I roll into the gym at the buttcrack of the morning, I’m not going to say, raring to go, but I’m there.  I go in and the first thing Seth says to me is: “Ten minutes on the stairmaster.”  Um, excuse me?  There’s a perfectly nice treadmill sitting next to it.  “You said you were daunted by stairs, get on the stairmaster.”  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Seth earned the nickname “The Marquis de Seth.”

This begs the question:  Why didn't I tell him I was daunted by bunnies?  Would he have shown up dressed as Thumper?  Anyway...

First, let’s talk about having to get up ON the stairmaster.  Or mount it, if you will.  And I haul my ass up onto it, and Seth has to show me how to program it.  And we picked the program (some sort of aerobic setting), enter my weight, and it starts to go and Seth walks away.  And I start stepping up.  And up.  And my heart starts beating faster.  And faster.  And I start breathing harder.  And then I go past breathing harder to gasping for air, and all I can think is, “10 minutes of this???  Are you fucking kidding?”  And I come off.  I don’t fall off, more that I just don’t stay on.  I look at Seth imploringly, and he says, “Get back on it.”  I gaspingly say that I can’t, but then I do.  And I put together another minute, and I’m back off.  

Then, I’m *really* whining and sucking wind.  And Seth is showing no mercy…and then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, like the voice of God, I hear a voice going, “GET BACK ON THE MACHINE.”  

Ladies and gentlemen, Craig Tinnelle, your humble proprietor of Physiques’ Gym.  A few words about Craig….he is a powerhouse.  He bodybuilds, but he’s not crazy ripped – he’s just muscled.  And he’s smart as shit about the body – and about life.  We’re almost the same age, so how I interact with him is very different then how I interact with Seth.  With Craig, I flirt shamelessly and he flirts back.  He has created an environment that I look forward to going to, and I’m incredibly grateful.

So.  There I am, sucking wind like there’s no tomorrow, and I’m all, “I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.”  And there’s the voice again:  “YOU’LL PASS OUT LONG BEFORE YOU HAVE A HEART ATTACK.”  Oh my god, where is this guy and why are they hell bent on torturing me???

And before I know it, Craig is next to me, standing on the stair master next to mine, talking me through.  First, he adjusted the machine so it’s more manual as opposed to aerobic.  So it’s me working the machine, not the machine working me.  Which is still hard, but doable.  And he talks to me for the next 3-4 minutes.   A lot of which I don’t remember, I just know that he just kept talking.  The line that has stayed with me (and I think of OFTEN when I’m on the stairmaster) is, “you can do anything for 5 minutes.”   And he’s right.  It's not forever.  It's five minutes.

So I come off the stairmaster, and I think I drink some water, and then honestly, I couldn’t tell you what Seth had me do for the rest of the time.  But I do know that I was covered in sweat by the time it was over.  And when he said, “Ok, you’re done” I was so grateful, I hugged him.  Which he hated, as hi, I was sweaty.   

But really – not my finest hour, but it all begins with a step, no?  And by step, I mean a step up on the stairmaster.

"Come Into My Parlor," said the spider to the fly.

“Step into the office and let’s talk.”  Uh, ok.  Let me just sit on this moving stool here.  Nothing bad can come from it, right?  (In case you missed it, MAJOR foreshadowing there…)  Moving on…Seth and I start talking about what my goals are.   Ok, so here are MY goals:  I want to be down a few sizes and not be daunted by stairs.  Seth says those are admirable goals.  And then he drops this little bombshell:

“You seem to tolerate pain well.”

You know, in a different environment, that’s a hot statement.  (Yeah, I’ll say it.)  When it’s a personal trainer?  Good lord.  I must be as stupid as they come because I did NOT run screaming from the building.  All kidding aside, in hindsight, I appreciate that statement.  I do tolerate pain well, as while I might whine, when my muscles are super sore, if Seth says, give me one more, I’m going to do my very best to give it to him.  

So here are Seth’s goals for me:  he wants me to drop 8-10 lbs. of body fat a month.  That’s it.  Oh, and he wants total control of what I eat, too.  And he shows me a sample meal plan…and…wow.  Look, I’m a serious foodie – like, I love to eat.  I love to cook.  I love to feed people.   I’ve taken vacations where I learn how to bake!  (Yes, they ARE called bakecations  and yes, they ARE the best times I’ve ever had on vacation.  www.bakewithzing.com  Trust.) 

So now I have some trainer telling me he wants control of my food?  Ugh.  “Look, you had 41 years to do whatever you want, and now you’re here.”  And here’s the thing:  Seth was right.  Sure, I’ve had times of eating very cleanly…but I’ve also had periods where Jack In The Box played way too heavily into my diet.  

Seth’s food plan, is, well, not as jazzy as I like.  It’s a good diet:  lots of protein, fruit and veggies.  Brown rice. (Which, a moment please.  Look, I know all the dietary benefits of brown rice, fiber, blah blah blah.  But let’s call the spade the spade:  it doesn’t taste as good as white rice.  It’s like eating raw oats or something.  And I love the smugness of Pei Wei…”brown rice?”   Seriously, that’s a restaurant built on giving people a rice option….)  Anyway, we talk a little more, hammer out a fee, talk days of the week to work out, and then it’s time to go.

So…I’m sitting on a stool.  One that has me more or less in a squat position.  And I’ve been sitting just long enough for my quads to have gotten stiff.  So I raise up….and my quads flip me the bird and say, “uh, no” and I go back down.  Only..that stool?  It’s on wheels.  And it has rolled away.  Aaaaand….down I go. 

Nice.

Meanwhile, Seth looked properly distressed and was all, “are you ok??”  Which, hi, I seem to be able to fall well, because the only thing hurt was my pride.  He offered to help me up, which, yeah, just no.  I got myself down, I’ll get myself up.   Woo hoo!!  Falling down in gym at THE EVALUATION.  Gym triumph.  /eye roll

Anyway, Seth didn’t seem to think any less of me, and we make plans for me to be there at 6:30 the following Thursday.  

Or as I say, down the rabbit hole I decided to go. 

Getting There

There is a commercial out right now for some drug for people with rheumatoid arthritis that says, “a body at motion will stay in motion, a body at rest will stay at rest.”  (Yes, I know this is based on Newton’s principle, you don’t need to tell me…)  This started playing about six weeks ago – or maybe I started paying attention? - and it just started sinking into my subconscious.  I am not an active person.  I mean, I do a lot, but I don’t work out….and as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started feeling that lack of activity.  I’m fat by nature (and nurture), and working out always seemed like something I’d do later.   I’m also feeling how the weight is starting to affect my body – to not put too fine a point on it, it feels like it’s dragging my body down. 

“You know you can’t keep letting it get you down,

And you can’t keep dragging that dead weight around

Is it really all that much to lug around

Better run like hell when you hit the ground…”

This is not where I want to be when I turn 42 – which as of now, will be in about 10 months. 

And then I helped my friend Shane with a fundraiser he was doing for a local LGBT community center.   I helped to run a raffle, where he had tons of prizes, one being a massage and training session with his friend Auggie, who happens to be a personal trainer.  Auggie showed up for the event, and I started chatting with him  and I started entertaining the notion of possibly seeing a trainer.  Auggie has a great vibe and it occurred to me that it might not be awful to have someone like him for a trainer.   

So really, it’s like seeds just kept getting planted in my head.  “If not now, when?”  “Do you see yourself as a fat 60 year old?”  “Seriously, you’re going to kill yourself if you keep this up.”

Which led to me asking my girlfriend Angelica what her trainer costs her, as like so many things in life, it all comes down to money.  She has a sweet barter system with her trainer, so she said she’d talk to him about it.  And then I get a phone call from her trainer, Seth (who, as I continue to write in this blog, I can assure you will have so many nicknames, it will be funny), who is kinda quiet, but we set up a time for him to evaluate me.  

The gym where Angelica works out is a hike from my house – 15 miles.  And there are plenty of gyms near me, all with their own trainers.  But I decided what the hell.  The time came and I made the trek to more northern Phoenix.

Physiques’ Gym is not your standard gym.  First, it’s small.  Like, *really* small.  Two stairmasters, two treadmills, and the rest?  Weights, weight machines, and more weights.  And people are actively working out.  Music?  Hip hop and rap, which is just what you need to work out to keep you going.  Craig (the owner, who plays a significant role in this saga) runs a great shop.  

To say I was nervous is an understatement – but I tend to mask a lot of my nerves with laughter and sarcasm.  Seth comes over and introduces himself to me.  

I want to take a moment to describe Seth Thurston, my trainer.  Seth is, without a doubt, a beautiful, beautiful man-child.  I say man-child because he’s 21, and while I respect his adulthood, I don’t call him a man yet.  He’s blonde, has a great body (which I know he works for), flawless skin, and a smile that lights up his whole face.  He is, without a doubt, dreamy.  He’s also young.  Like, I’m old enough to be his mom young.  And that’s just kind of fun.  At first he was kinda quiet…now, he tolerates my lip and is starting to give it back.  He will simply point at something and go, “Do it” and funnily enough, I do it.  He’s encouraging, and is constantly correcting my form, which is (obviously) good for me.  He tolerates me telling him to fuck off (which happens from time to time) and takes my humor well.  But my favorite thing about Seth is when I do an exercise and he says, “good job” or “beautiful” in reference to my form and movement.  Yes.  I really AM a positive reinforcement whore.

So, back to Seth evaluating me.  Let’s talk time on a treadmill, which should be easy, no?  And for the most part, it was.  I mean, I’m fat, but I can walk.  But the constant brisk(er) pace did get my heart up.  And then Seth had me doing fun stuff.  You know, like squats.  Which I have a hard time with, as I always lean forward, never going straight down, because quite frankly, I’m scared my ass will drag me down….  And, my right knee bothers me from time to time, as it feels like it moves around and is just weak.  So I was squatting, favoring my right leg, which I’m sure looked funny.  And Seth just watches me.  And then on to arm work.  10 lbs. isn’t that heavy, right?  The first five reps, no.  Then?  Ugh.  Then, I hold out my arms with the weights in them and he presses down, telling me to push back.  Oh yeah, that went well.  And then back to squats, and back to arms, and can you see how this is going?  And then, hallelu, we are done.