M. the Reasonable

There. We have a nickname at last! Every time I've blogged about my new trainer over the last week, I've wracked my brain for a good adjective. On Monday he said, "Well, it seems your three previous trainers all had sort of negative nicknames..." and I told him about the blog post I'd written about my attitude adjustment since starting this whole adventure. It hardly seemed fair to give him a mean nickname--though he pointed out that if I don't hold up my end of the deal, he will give me consequences, as Gershom used to. Fair enough.

Then yesterday, I had the run from hell. I was in bed at 7:00 last night (I watched TV for a few hours, but still, I was tucked in, lights out, in bed at 7:00) and still tired today. My body is getting used to being back in training mode. I had an appointment with M. at 10:00, so off to the gym I went, tired but excited to kick a little butt (believe it or not, I actually always look forward to my workouts with my trainers because I like having the guidance and motivation). I did a ten-minute warmup on the StairMaster, then some easy stretching, before meeting M.

I showed him my food journal, and he was quite pleased. I've learned excellent eating habits and I'm living with two people who are on Weight Watchers, so my diet is 75% fruits and vegetables, with lots of lean protein and light on the bread and dairy. He was pleased with the planks I did on my own yesterday. I told him of my horrible run, fearing with every word that he would be disappointed. He wasn't--he simply told me, "I'm not surprised. Your body is getting used to training again." His bottom line is that as long as I am giving 100%, and trying, he's not going to penalize me for being tired, or for having a bad run.

Still, I have some lingering frustration. These days I just expect so much more from my body than that.

Anyway, my workout today was good--but not great. I was so flippin' tired, I couldn't balance as well as usual and kept wobbling in the step-back lunges and balance exercises. My rows were downright painful. I was sweating even more than usual.

During the last exercise, I plaintively asked him over my shoulder, "So...should I run today?" Imagine my delight and relief when he said, "No. Rest. And tomorrow, I want you to just walk."

I could have wept. Or hugged him.

So with those words, M. earned himself the nickname M. the Reasonable. This does not mean I expect him to let anything slide--he won't. He will push me--he just won't push me past that point where my body can't take anymore, and he trusts me to tell him when that point is without being dishonest or lazy.

Also, as far as eating for Thanksgiving, he told me to live my life. I am at a point now where I don't feel the need to gorge, but I do want to enjoy my meal. Mom, Dad and I are eating out to avoid leftovers, so once I've eaten, I'm done.

I had figured we'd weigh today, but he said he doesn't check weight weekly--he's also less concerned with the number on the scale and more concerned with how my clothes fit, how I'm eating, and how my fitness is. So no weigh-in today. See? Dude is so reasonable.