I knew it had been time for a change.
I knew I'd put on a couple of pounds in the past few years. My clothes had been tight and were getting tighter. I also noticed that I would get out of breath when I climbed a couple of flights of stairs. But the cruelest sign that I had gotten badly out of shape was this certain hobby of mine. I just didn't have the stamina that I once did. You know what I mean. My muscles, all of them, had gotten soft and tired easily. Oh, the ladies were great about it. It happens all the time, they said. It was the journey, not the destination. It's just not a problem, big boy.
Except it was a problem, to me. It was a blow to the ego. I just didn't like the way I looked, and I liked the way I felt even less. So recently I decided to do something about it. A friend had started going to the gym for circuit training, and asked me if I wanted to tag along. I said sure, I'll give it a try.
I arrived at the gym and the trainer was a tiny pretty little woman, ridiculously fit, full of energy and enthusiasm. She was very attractive and in another world of mine I would have been fascinated at the prospect of being worked over by her. But that wasn't why I was there and in any case, she kept mentioning her wife and so that was that.
It was a circuit training class. I spent a minute at each station, and I went around the room at each of the stations. I was tired within a few minutes, sweat draining from me, and I could see in the mirror I was red faced and panting. And afterwards, I hadn't felt that awful in a long time, short of being actually sick. My muscles all ached. I felt like I had been worked over with a rubber hose.
I don't know why, but I stuck it out. And a funny thing happened. It started to get easier. I started to do more difficult variations of the exercises. I kept upping the weights. I started going steadily, even when my friend didn't go. I started to sleep better. I started to feel better. And when I rushed to run up a flight of stairs without thinking one day, I wasn't out of breath.
It's been about six weeks now. I recently stood in front of a mirror after a shower and I reached to put on deodorant. And I stopped in mid-motion. It was my upper arm and deltoids, reflected in the mirror. They were beefier than I had ever remembered. The light went off in my head. I ran to my closet and pulled out an old shirt from my old, pre-weight-gain days. It was a little tight, as I expected. But instead of being tight across my belly, my shirt was now tight across my shoulders and around my upper arms. Aha.
I stood in front of my full-length mirror. I don't think I lost any weight. Perhaps my fat was just turning into muscle. But in any case, I looked at the slightly unfamiliar reflection before me. My posture was better. I stood taller, my back was straighter. My slouch was gone. I suddenly remembered an appreciative look from a strange woman the previous week. I had only smiled back before turning away. There had been something a little odd about it. I realized now what it was. It had been a long time since that had happened last. It felt nice. Perhaps I'll start getting more of these.
My transformation has been subtle. Most people would probably would never notice. But like the best personal changes, most of the change has happened from within. I feel better about myself. My muscles are firm in ways they hadn't been in years. I sleep better. I tire less easily. My morning wood has made a welcome return.
I still have a long ways to go. I'd like to fit into some of my nicer clothes again, at least without getting them altered. I still struggle with laughably light weights. But I know one thing's for sure. The sky really is the limit. And maybe that pretty little trainer will give me a happy ending after all, but not the one I would really have thought.
Oh, and my time with the ladies? Well, that remains to be seen. And soon, I hope. It's been a while.
I knew I'd put on a couple of pounds in the past few years. My clothes had been tight and were getting tighter. I also noticed that I would get out of breath when I climbed a couple of flights of stairs. But the cruelest sign that I had gotten badly out of shape was this certain hobby of mine. I just didn't have the stamina that I once did. You know what I mean. My muscles, all of them, had gotten soft and tired easily. Oh, the ladies were great about it. It happens all the time, they said. It was the journey, not the destination. It's just not a problem, big boy.
Except it was a problem, to me. It was a blow to the ego. I just didn't like the way I looked, and I liked the way I felt even less. So recently I decided to do something about it. A friend had started going to the gym for circuit training, and asked me if I wanted to tag along. I said sure, I'll give it a try.
I arrived at the gym and the trainer was a tiny pretty little woman, ridiculously fit, full of energy and enthusiasm. She was very attractive and in another world of mine I would have been fascinated at the prospect of being worked over by her. But that wasn't why I was there and in any case, she kept mentioning her wife and so that was that.
It was a circuit training class. I spent a minute at each station, and I went around the room at each of the stations. I was tired within a few minutes, sweat draining from me, and I could see in the mirror I was red faced and panting. And afterwards, I hadn't felt that awful in a long time, short of being actually sick. My muscles all ached. I felt like I had been worked over with a rubber hose.
I don't know why, but I stuck it out. And a funny thing happened. It started to get easier. I started to do more difficult variations of the exercises. I kept upping the weights. I started going steadily, even when my friend didn't go. I started to sleep better. I started to feel better. And when I rushed to run up a flight of stairs without thinking one day, I wasn't out of breath.
It's been about six weeks now. I recently stood in front of a mirror after a shower and I reached to put on deodorant. And I stopped in mid-motion. It was my upper arm and deltoids, reflected in the mirror. They were beefier than I had ever remembered. The light went off in my head. I ran to my closet and pulled out an old shirt from my old, pre-weight-gain days. It was a little tight, as I expected. But instead of being tight across my belly, my shirt was now tight across my shoulders and around my upper arms. Aha.
I stood in front of my full-length mirror. I don't think I lost any weight. Perhaps my fat was just turning into muscle. But in any case, I looked at the slightly unfamiliar reflection before me. My posture was better. I stood taller, my back was straighter. My slouch was gone. I suddenly remembered an appreciative look from a strange woman the previous week. I had only smiled back before turning away. There had been something a little odd about it. I realized now what it was. It had been a long time since that had happened last. It felt nice. Perhaps I'll start getting more of these.
My transformation has been subtle. Most people would probably would never notice. But like the best personal changes, most of the change has happened from within. I feel better about myself. My muscles are firm in ways they hadn't been in years. I sleep better. I tire less easily. My morning wood has made a welcome return.
I still have a long ways to go. I'd like to fit into some of my nicer clothes again, at least without getting them altered. I still struggle with laughably light weights. But I know one thing's for sure. The sky really is the limit. And maybe that pretty little trainer will give me a happy ending after all, but not the one I would really have thought.
Oh, and my time with the ladies? Well, that remains to be seen. And soon, I hope. It's been a while.
