The day was busy - nothing new there. In the office with the Borg swilling around the atrium. Did you know that I've been working in buildings that have their own signature scents? You go in and it smells different. Good different, but these property managers pay to have a signature scent for the building. I find it a bit strange, but I suppose it's better than smelling sweat, industrial floor cleaner and spilled coffee.
Anyway, after finishing work, I raced home, fed the cat and braced myself for my solo session with Chuck. Jay is on her way to Adelaide for the AFL Gather Round. This means I had Chuck all to myself.
Joy.
Working with another in your PT sessions is both good and has its challenges. Sometimes you can egg each other on. Other times, the weaker member of the team will dictate what's being done. Chuck, a bit older and more experienced than Twelve, seems capable of swapping things around for Jay and I to meet our different needs.
Unfortunately, with Jay away, all bets were off tonight.
I arrived on time.
Three minutes of rowing, which turned into five minutes. Yeah, yeah.
Squat practice. Chuck is big on technique. He gave me a 16-kilo dumbbell and got me to squat, correcting my technique.
Yeah, that was good. The better the technique the less likely you going to get injured.
Next, lat pull downs and shoulder overheads. Again, my normal weight would be what Jay can do. He's upped all my weights.
Oh, then hamstring curls. I don't mind the machine. He set the weights at 60 kilos. I put it to 90 for the first round. We ended up with the machine set at 115 kilos.
"You're strong. We're going to get you stronger," he told me.
That works for me.
We talked about all sorts of things. About old trainers and some of the torture devices used on us. Of my current anxiety irks, and how exercise is helping. About footy - he's an Essendon supporter, so we're just going to have to ignore that. About how 155 grams of protein is hard to eat every day - but after talking to one of the Darwin crew who's into body building, she gave me a few tips (the iced coffee with almond milk and protein powder was a good call).
The last big exercise for tonight was the sled. Pushing a weighted sled over carpet. 40 kgs on the sled. I was told to walk not too fast, nor too slow.
"Pretend you're a gay man when you're pushing the sled. Gay men walk quicker than straight me, and they have "Womaniser" in their heads."
"You want me to push the sled to a daft 90's song?"
"You don't know the song?"
"I'm old, not deaf," and with that, I started humming Britney Spears inane little ditty while moving a pile of iron up the gym.
"That gay blokes walking to "Womaniser" has to be a pile of crock."
"One of my clients told me about it."
Turns out, there is some credence to this. I found an article in GQ about the subject.
And after working me to the bone, making me sweat buckets, fixing all sorts of gym techniques I didn't know needed fixing, I left, 45 minutes later, on the verge of vomiting, very sweaty, and very happy.
Jay has another footy thing next week - which means we're going to do this all again.
Fun.
I'm going to stretch now. I'm going to hurt tomorrow.
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