Conversations With My Trainer

So after today's butt-kicking workout with M. the Reasonable, I have one lone session left with him--for now. Make no mistake, I will buy more when I can again, because 1) I'm not at goal yet and 2) dare I say it? He's the best trainer I've had. G.the Meanie was awesome and everything I needed at the time to bully me into becoming an athlete. M. has taken what G. helped me build and has fine-tuned it to precision. You should see my arms and shoulders. (Actually, according to M., I've become quite "shapely." Good word!)

But beyond being a fantastic trainer, M. has also been a good friend. March wasn't exactly a fun month to be me, let alone to have to listen to me. He bore it with a smile and many encouraging words. My twice-weekly butt-kickings with M. are truly what kept me sane.

I've been lucky to get along well enough with all of my trainers, but I've had a particular rapport with M. that stands out, and makes for great conversational gems. Going back through my blog posts from the last six months, there are some stand-outs that still make me giggle.

For example, the day I met him:

"I have a tendency to get very sarcastic when I feel backed into a corner," I told him today.

"Well, I have a very sarcastic personality, too, so that's fine!" he replied.

"I once told my last trainer that I hated him." I came back.

"Oh, I've heard that one more than once."

All of this was said with friendly smiles and not a hint of animosity or bad feeling. I have a feeling we're going to work well together.

I've never felt backed into a corner, working with M. One thing I learned as he started training me is that I've had a major attitude adjustment since my days of working with G. It's called "believing in myself." There comes a point where even Burpees stop being impossible. They'll never be fun, but you just shut up, do 'em, and then sit and marvel at your awesome arm muscles. 

Also, for the record, I have heard, more than once, that M. likes being "M. the Reasonable" after I've had, you know, B. the Sadist and G. the Meanie. He earned the name. His mentality is far less "push through the pain" like what I got used to with G. and more "let's not hurt ourselves, here..."

If you've encountered me in person, you've most likely noticed that I talk much like I write--constant parenthetical statements (it's how I roll, yo), dramatic uses of ellipses...I can get pretty animated. I also talk to myself. Fortunately, it's not the voices-in-my-head variety of talking to myself, it's the "I need to hear myself say it to comprehend just what I'm doing" variety. Case in point:

Meg: I can do this!

M: Yes, you can!

Meg: That was more for me than it was for you.

M: I know, I just wanted to let you know I'm on your side.

Meg: I appreciate that! Actually, I do that a lot. I mutter to myself as I'm working out. It's like I need to hear it, not just think it. People must think I'm crazy when I'm running.

M: I do that, too!

This is why we get along so well. And, you know, because he's never told me to push through the pain...but also because he is always appropriately impressed by my accomplishments. I still laugh when I recall his reaction to seeing my size 18 jeans:

His smile turned to a look of shock as I unfolded the jeans and held them up in front of myself. M. is not a particularly loud person to begin with, but his very quiet, "Oh, my God." made me laugh out loud in delight.

A big smile spread across his face. "You could fit two of you in those!" He stood there, shaking his head, smiling, as I laughed and told him of my own reaction to pulling the jeans out for the first time in a long time. Finally, he said, "I just...can't imagine you ever being able to fit into those!"

"Neither can I, and I did, indeed, used to fit into them!" 

(His reaction when I recently "gifted" him with a tag to my recent purchase of size 4 jeans was a half-yelled, "Oh, SNAP! I LOVE IT!!" that had me laughing and people around us staring.)

It never occurred to my reasonable trainer to do anything insulting, like yell, "Mush!" when I was pushing him across the aerobics room on a dog sled.

Then he sat down. "You're going to push me across the room and back."

It wasn't that hard. M. isn't a heavy guy, and while it took some effort, I managed to get him across the room. As we neared the opposite side I said, "If you say, 'MUSH!' so help me God..."

Laughter. "I wouldn't do that!" He got up to turn the sled around and said, "But maybe I should stand on it, facing backwards, yelling in your face: "GO! GO! PUSH HARDER! FASTER! GO!!!"

"I'd have to hit you."

"I'd be mad at you if you didn't!"

Yesterday, M. emailed my Friday assignment workout to me from his fancy new iPad. I responded to let him know it had come through, and sent the link to Monday's post, in which I made my first-ever semi-snarky remarks about wanting to kick him. He loved the post, and we chatted about it today, laughing at how I really, truly wanted to tell him to go to hell when he told me, "Only 40 seconds of work left!"

Today found me doing the same timing intervals as Monday's treadmill torture on the ropes, whipping them around and generally trying not to fall on my ass in a heap of exhaustion and tears. And with two intervals left to go, my reasonable trainer let his sarcastic streak shine through. A smirk came across his face as he said, "Only 40 seconds of work left!"

I let my right middle finger respond for me.

And, because we're on the same wave-length, we both simply laughed.