So, I went and met my personal trainer on Saturday. I kept my head hung in shame as he measured every inch of me and put me on the scale. I kept waiting to hear, "I don't know if I can help you," but thankfully he was super-positive and told me that we all have a starting point. He immediately put me on a cleansing diet which will, after careful perusal, probably ensure that I will be cranky for the 10-day duration. It involves lots of fruit, salad and lean meat. And no donuts.
This morning at 6 a.m. sharp, I came face-to-face with the consequences of not working out for a year and a half. (I did power-walk and do yoga, but rarely broke a sweat...) Landry put me on the treadmill and I almost lied and said I had bad knees to get out of it, but thought better of it. After ten minutes of rocking out to the Backstreet Boys, (I don't want to hear it, Ty), I was huffing and puffing and wondering if it was over and I looked like a bikini model yet.
Far from it.
I did squats, crunches, leg presses, weight training and lunges, all the while cursing the cupcakes I stuffed in my mouth over the weekend. (Note to self: never tell your personal trainer about the cupcakes. He'll punish you.)
After 45 minutes of a 1-hour session, I started feeling dizzy. I mentioned that to Landry and it was like an alarm went off. "Lay down NOW and breathe!" He ran and got cold towels and put them on my neck and ears. (Apparently that cools you down the quickest.) I also was very pale and shaking.
My work-out was officially and prematurely over. I got to lay on a bench for the remainder of my time and stretch. He said my reaction was normal and that I would get stronger. I then limped out of the studio, determined to never be in such bad shape again.
Did I mention the 50-something woman that was working circles around me? Nah, I'll save that humiliation for another day.