It's no secret that I live to eat. I love food, and as such, I have very little self-control. The eating, fattening, working out cycle has led me to have a constant 5-10 pounds hanging around that I need to lose. Kev is in the same boat, so a few months ago, we agreed to spend the money on a once-per-week personal training session. Our trainer, James, is amazing. He's extremely motivational, and lost over one hundred pounds healthily and alone before becoming a trainer. I love him, even though he kicks my ass. And let me tell you, friends, ass-kicking is his specialty. Every week, the man comes up with a new and fresh way to make me feel like I'm going to pass out. I've realized, though, that once a week is just not going to cut it. If I really want to see results, I will need to swap out some of my weenie gym moves, and incorporate more of his prescribed burpees, woodchoppers, and stair runs.
Yesterday, I was feeling pretty freaking good about myself. I didn't have to work until nine, so I decided to wake up at my normal time and hit the gym before work. This was pretty much a miracle, since I've been fighting a RA flare in my hands that has left me exhausted. But off I went. After doing twenty minutes on the stair-stepper and another 15 on the bike, I decided to round out my workout with five sets of ten-twelve burpees each. They make me sore in my jiggly bits, which is awesome.
I have to admit, I was feeling pretty damn smug about myself as I finished my first set. James saw me and told me he was proud of me, I was still ahead of schedule to get to work on time, and I would be able to go home and take a nap after work. Huzzah! Suddenly, a gigantic square of a man walked up to me.
"Hey lady," he said, "Are those burpees?"
No, they are jumps for joy. Of course they are burpees. Can't you tell by my superior form and swanlike grace? I thought
"Why, yes" I responded pleasantly to the man foolish enough to approach me before ten a.m.
"I've done a lot of burpees in my day, and I just thought you should know there are better workouts out there."
"....." (gritting teeth and ignoring until he walked away after a ten-second-pause-of-doom.
Harumph. WTF.
I get that this man was probably proud of his non waistline and no neck, but honestly, I didn't ask for his help. I was doing what my fitness professional told me to do, I was completing a previously unheard of for me morning workout, and I was taking positive steps to shrink my health risks and waistline. Moreover, I was challenging myself.
I am in no way qualified to give workout advice, but even if I were, I certainly would not butt in and offer it unsolicited. I'm not sure if the guy was feeling sorry for the pitiful chubby girl with the gnarly hands, or if he was feeling uber-macho in his sweaty cotton t-shirt, but either way, he should have butted out. Although common in our society, working out is sort of a personal thing. You have goals and plans that match what works for your body, and you should be allowed to go about these plans in peace (unless you are paying James the ass-kicker). People of the world, do not go offering workout tips unasked. You may regret it.
That evil man better watch his back. Once I stop being so sore, I'm going to give him the meanest glower there ever was. Jerk.
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