I know that I am not in the very best shape of my life. I do, however, like to assume that I am in at least relatively good shape. I am not running as much as I would like. The heat is a bit stifling, and the humidity makes me feel as though I am running in soup. I do run though. I think that should count for something.
When Erin and I joined the gym recently, we also purchased three personal training sessions each. We thought, "we are paying for the gym, it would be good to know how to use all of the equipment, and do it right." The first session began with a fitness assessment. Think middle school gym class... One minute of sit ups, one minute of push ups, sit and reach, chin ups, running, balance, and my favorite, the body fat percentage. Mercifully, unlike middle school gum class, our gym does not use the fat calipers to take a pinch of the arm and leg to make the calculation. You simply stand on a scale and as though by magic, it spits out a number. All of these various components are added up. The total score for the entire assessment is out of a possible 24 points. Mine... Well, not so good.
And then the real work began. Legs, arms, chest, shoulders, abs, back...
I woke up the next day in pain. Terrrible, awful pain. That was Sunday. Friends helpfully reminded me that Monday the pain would likely be worse. It was. On Tuesday I returned for my second session. This morning the pain is only kind of bad. I think that is likely due to me spending as much time as I could in yesterday's session stalling. I took a little longer at the water fountain than was necessary. If that didn't work, then I just laid on the floor with my towel over my face in between sets and grunted at my trainer if he suggested we move on. I will surely be in perfect shape in no time.