Just another legs night

Whenever J makes me do legs, I think I'm going to die. Afterward, I think it couldn't possibly get any worse.

He proves me wrong, on all points, every time.

I do know, though, that I've never been so grunty, or so whiny. Tonight was hard - like, hard hard - and I felt weak. You know how, on really hot days when you're doing lots of running around, that little trickle of sweat meanders down your back and gets all into your business? I had that.

We started with supine leg presses on a machine similar to this:



I wasn't a fan of this style. The burden was on my shoulders, which are now criss-crossed with broken blood vessels. I was lifting 60lbs less than I do when seated and I still felt maxed out. I'll stick with the seated presses from now on, I think.

Then came lunges (backward and sideways), goblet squats (25lbs in hand), lateral step ups, and me almost falling to the floor and exclaiming that I've died and cannot finish my session, thank you anyway.

Thirty minutes had passed. Halfway there. I may have taken various names in vain upon realizing this.

Then J pulled out a medicine ball, and before he could say a word, I blurted, "You're not going to make me throw it at the wall, are you??" That particular exercise is forever etched in my memory.

He said no. I said that was good, because I didn't like that one.

I probably shouldn't have told him that. I bet he'll make me do it again soon, just to spite me.

We instead hit the mats for some hamstring exercises, which I also don't like because my hamstrings always feel like they're cramping when I do these body weight exercises. We started with single leg hip lifts and alternated sets of those with stability ball hamstring curls. I thought that doubling up these hamstring exercises was especially mean, but that's what a trainer is for. To be mean sometimes.

Those sets took me a long time. I spent at least as long lying on the floor staring at the ceiling, panting and feeling sorry for myself as I did actually performing the exercises. This earned me one well-timed "Poor you" from J, who was laughing as he said it.

Perspective.

After I dragged myself off the floor, we headed to one last room for some ab exercises. I alternated sets of v ups (which weren't nearly as perky as this lady makes them seem) with sets of leg lifts. We still had time on the clock, but J cut me loose five minutes early, bless him anyway.

So there we have it. Fifty-five minutes of self-imposed misery. I'm not sure how I'll feel tomorrow; I made the (poor?) choice to do arms yesterday, which are starting to ache this evening, and getting up in the morning may be a challenge.

If I show up tomorrow in my jammies, coworkers, you know why. It's because I can't put on pants.

For all the crap that was going on tonight, with feeling weak and struggling as badly as I did, I was never once demoralized. I was surprised by this. Hard sessions are exhilarating, but they can leave me feeling like I could have done better. Tonight, I put it all out there, and I'm left happy but drained, both emotionally and physically. I'm spent, guys.

Here's hoping for a long, restful night's sleep. Tomorrow is cardio, no excuses!