Calisthenics

Now that the doctor has proclaimed my ankle to be healed, and I have been released from physical therapy, I have joined a gym.  I seriously need to exercise, and I need to be careful so that I don't injure my ankle or anything else.  So, I am working with a personal trainer.  Have you ever worked with a trainer?  You pay them good money to have them help you exercise beyond the point where any sane person would stop. 

My trainer is a wonderful girl.  She's not that much older than my oldest kid.  She's very smart, funny, and knows what she's doing.  She has a degree in Exercise Science, and she is the person who gets the clients coming off of Physical Therapy.  She very gently pushes you to safely do more than you thought you could. 

The problem with Personal Trainers is that they're not content to work on just one part of you.  They want to work with ALL parts of you.  Not just your ankle, noooo.  Your abs, your glutes, your triceps, your biceps.... egads.

Do you know she tricked me into doing 60 sit ups last week?  And that they were on a ball?  One of those big exercise balls?

I can hear you thinking now "How does anyone trick you into doing 60 sit ups?"

Actually, it's easy.  She had me do 15 sit ups a week earlier.  3 sets of 15 sit ups.  It seems like a small number until you realize that you've done 45 sit ups.  And you haven't done 45 sit ups since you were in high school.  (And that was a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away.)

So, there we were.  She'd had me lunge the length of the gym.   Yeah right, lunge.  I can't lunge.  I give credit to the people who were in the gym at the same time but did not break out in laughter when I stumbled past them on my way down to the end of the gym and back. 

Dear God, the burn.  My legs burned EVERYWHERE.  Muscles I didn't even know I had were protesting the unaccustomed exercise.

She had me sit on the big ball, and I was so thankful that I got to sit down!  I did my 15 sit ups without complaint, because I wasn't lunging!

"You're going to do 5 more"  she tells me.

"What?  I can't do 5 more!  I can barely do 15!"

"It's only 5 more.  You can do 1 more.  Just try 1 more."

I did one more.  And then another.  And then 3 more. 

And then, we lunged the length of the gym again.  I didn't think I could burn anymore than I was before, but I was wrong. 

Back to the ball, back to more lunges, and back to the ball.  I got to 10 sit ups, and I swear to you, I was done.  And then, that evil witch, she smiled at me and told me "how easy the next 10 were going to be."  And she convinced me I could do them.  She had faith in me, even though I was ready to roll off that damn ball, onto the mat and use a hand weight as a pillow while I curled into the fetal position and nursed my wounded pride.

Slowly, very slowly, I managed to pull off 10 more sit ups.  The last one was something.  It wasn't pretty, but I did it.  60 sit ups.

Thank the good lord, we were done after that.

I hauled myself out to the car, and drug these old bones home.

The soreness the next morning was unbelievable.  Every part of my legs burned.  Every single muscle let me know that it hurt.  My stomach hurt.  Everything hurt.

I got to work, turned on the computers, pulled myself up on the stool and sat down at the information desk.  I was determined not to move until my shift was over.

Of course, things don't work that way in the library world.  Patrons need books.  Sometimes, you need to walk out into the stacks to look for a book that someone can't find, and sometimes, you like to help them find the section that books are in, so that they can find similar titles to the one that they are searching for.  This involves walking.

The worst part is our nifty little section of books that we have roped off.  A Staff member must accompany students back there while patrons are looking for books, or else we just grab the books for them and check them out.  Staff usually just squats and ducks under the rope and gets the books.

Not this day.  This day, that section became the "self-serve" section.  I had two people who needed books from this section.  Fortunately, the section is less than 6 feet from my perch, and I can see everything.  When the they asked for the books, I gave them permission to cross the sacred line and get the books themselves.

The worst part was when I had to go back into the stacks to help someone find a book.  As I hobbled down the aisles and hauled my sorry ass up a step stool to get to the books they needed, I noticed an inquisitive look cross their faces.  They were too polite to make any comment, but as we were slowly meandering our way back up to the desk to check out the books, the patron politely asked "Are you okay?  You seem to be a little... ummm..."

"Oh, I'm fine.  I'm just suffering the after effects of a unique for of torture called 'calisthenics'." 

The smothered laughter from the assorted people sitting in the surrounding area was just a little mortifying....