Every once in a while, it's nice to remember that I don't need fancy machines or elaborate equipment to get a full workout. Tonight's session with J was gimmick-free and loaded with leg-burning goodness.
Required items: A few weights, something to step up onto, and a stability ball. Oh, and one mostly-willing participant who knows she can't get out of legs again.
Squats, weighted lunges, side step-ups, calf raises, lateral leg lifts, and weighted wall sits with stability ball comprised the legs portion of the night. These were followed by sit-ups, leg lifts, and v-ups. It sounds so basic, these exercises. Things I can do on my own, and will do on my own.
Things I probably could have done on my own all along, without a trainer.
It was the kind of night that might make some people ask, "So, why have a trainer?"
My mom wondered this recently, when we were catching up after a long week and talking about the things I've been doing at the gym. "Do you really need to have a trainer?" she asked. Surely I've learned the technical things I need to know in order to get off to a good start.
And she's right. I have learned technical stuff, loads of it. I have many of the tools I need to continue this journey. It's how I manage to succeed on the days I don't have J looking over my shoulder, counting my reps and making me grimace.
It's the other things J does that are so important. He keeps me accountable, checking up on me every week. He pushes me to complete just one more rep. Oh, and these exercises over here, too. (And these ones. Yikes.) He provides answers when I have questions, and he's a good sounding board when I have ideas that may or may not be good ones. He gives me confidence.
But most importantly, he has faith in me. On the days when I don't have faith in myself, of which there are so many, he has faith in me.
I told my mom this and she considered it for a moment. She nodded, smiling a little. "Sounds like you need him after all."
If J ever reads this, I may deny ever having written it. It was Blogger gremlins. Or my little brother. But a good trainer is worth their weight in gold, and I got a good one.
(Oh, and as a footnote, don't be fooled by the simplicity of tonight's workout. I survived the legs only to be crushed by the abs. By the time we finished the v-ups and got on with the serious business of resting, my quads were visibly trembling from the force of having to do nothing. I was flat on my back and my legs were dancing without my consent. A very productive night!)
No comments:
Post a Comment