The Trainer In...Me

You know I've been working out like crazy.  

I've always enjoyed working out, really, but there are times I am less motivated to burn calories than I am motivated to consume them.  Further, I am not an athlete--as I've mentioned before. Working out is also complicated by my life-long battle with Asthma (which has sent me to the ER on more than one occasion).  

When I was a kid my sister and I would throw a workout record, of my mom's, onto the old turn table and dress up in our leotards to perform the exercises in the living room.  My favorite track on the record was Olivia Newton John's, "Physical."  I would actually get sweaty during these workouts.

I began playing sports in the fourth grade and so naturally I was pretty fit throughout the years. I remember being complimented on my physique often in early high school.  

Like thousands of other teens, I began to be severely depressed mid-sophomore year of high school and ended up quitting all athletics at that time (one of the diagnostic criteria for Major Depressive Disorder, according to the DSM-IV Revised, Ed. is a loss of interest in things that used to be enjoyable).  Consequently, my weight began to yo-yo.  At one point, without trying, I lost 15 lbs only to gain it back plus 15 more within just a few months.  Weight change is a very common effect of Major Depressive Disorder.  

Eventually, I headed off to college and there I found myself living a food lover's dream come true--all you can eat cafeteria breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Unfortunately, my sister got married a few days after I finished my freshman year which cemented in time (wedding pictures) me at my fattest, somewhere in the 150 lb range.  Fortunately, getting out of the eating 24/7 culture was helpful and that summer I shed at least 20 lbs without trying.  

Depression hit again sophomore year of college and with it my weight blossomed again.  By my senior year, however, my mood had improved and I began jogging nearly everyday and began playing racquetball several times per week. Looking back at pictures of that year I was seriously hot.  This ended my "fat phase" as I like to call it to people who've only met me after the fatness.  People have a really hard time believing that I was so heavy at times in my life, because I have now been quite petite for more than eight years.  

But...then...I...got...pregnant...

I actually only gained 27 lbs over the course of my pregnancy.  Pretty good, really.  I lost the weight within about six months without putting too much effort in.  I, however, never recovered my shape.  There was extra-stuff everywhere. Love handles where there weren't any before--even in the fat phase.  

So in January 2009 I'd had enough.  I got back on the workout wagon--merely 18 months prior I was training for a marathon for crying out loud!

I began to really enjoy myself.  And the results were promising.  As you remember, I put the workouts into over-drive when I was invited to Hawaii which gave me such good results I could easily say I was looking pretty darn fine.

A few days before I was to travel to Oregon I was doing my leg workout when a regular (people who are there often while I am there) gestured to me.  I was REALLY annoyed.  First, of course if anyone male talks to me at the gym I am going to assume they are hitting on me (right?). Second, I go the gym to workout, not to fraternize (like many others do).  Third, I'd seen this guy several times and he had never talked to me before.  Fourth, he was working out with who I had always assumed was his girlfriend/wife.  Fifth, I had my I.POD in and like I could hear what he was saying.

I pull my ear bud out and ask him rudely to repeat.  He said, "Are you a trainer?"

Me:  WHAT!?

Him: Yeah, I'm just wondering if you are a trainer?

*It should be noted this guy is totally ripped--super in shape*

Me:  HAHAHAHAHA!  Uh, no...why?

Him: I've seen you working out a lot and just wondered.  

His girlfriend/wife:  Yeah.

Me:  No.  HAHAHAHA.  Thanks, though...seriously, SERIOUSLY, thanks!

I was giddy all day (I'm still giddy, thinking back on it), bragging to anyone who would listen.  

I've never been more flattered in my ENTIRE life.  I don't think I could possibly be more flattered if someone gave me a mother of the year award or a therapist of the year award.  

Are my priorities messed up?

I guess I should have said yes and told him I charge $100 per session.  Maybe I'll be a more successful pretend trainer than I am a mother or therapist (clearly it's been a tough week in those arenas).