I ask myself, do I have those muscles?

Just a little check in to share with you a bit about my first 30 days with Grant Smith.

Remember, Grant?

My personal trainer.

Yes, the man or psycho who inspires me to get up every morning and go the gym.

I've found muscles in my body that I am quite sure do not exist or haven't until now.  One of them.  The rhomboids.  Do you have them?  Do you know where they are?  I didn't up until recently. Yes, they in your back. They may actually keep my shoulders from shrugging or they may help them shrug.  I'm not quite sure but yesterday I did shrugs. Successfully.  

It's about form, he says, it's about pace. 

It's about time I remember I am woman. I don't have rhomboids.  Men, do.  

I love it that he counts my reps for me.  I love it that he hands me my weights. I love it that he racks them, stacks them and makes me play patty cake with them.  

I have quite a bit of fun at the gym. Grant believes it's because of his workouts he creates for me, the way he screams out "BOOM" at the end of my reps and his motivational skills.  Quite the contrary.

My mind is in training mode. I love cardio.  I am learning how to lift. I signed up for my first triathlon.  I have another century next month.  But that's not the fun of it.  It's because I EAT CARBS!

Yes, I eat carbs.  Many tell me, including Grant, "Carbs bad!"  Not me, "Carbs good...in moderation."

I am in love with pasta, brown rice, all things potato (could be the Irish in me) and I was just given the go ahead to eat them BUT not after 4 pm.  

A little known fact...they are fat.  What's not to love about fat.  Yum.  Fat creates smartness.  Do you know that if you cut out carbohydrates all together, your brain can't function?  You have a difficult time remembering things? Your body wants to move but your mind is slow? Some people have been terminated from their jobs because they aren't productive.  All because they quit eating those little carbs.  

So, I say, eat carbs.  Just remember, you have to use muscles you never thought you had and you have to increase your lifting weight so your body doesn't get used to it.  Don't be like me and say, "lower the weight."  In personal training circles, that means, "increase weight."  I like to cheat every once in awhile.  Grant doesn't let me. On a scale of 1-10 (10 meaning - STOP), I'm usually at an 8.  

Call him for a good time - Grant Smith, 509-863-4343

And, for women who think lifting weights will make you bulky or it costs too much- that is simply not true. Do you really want to end up looking like this too early? (PS, that's osteoporosis - or another term:  lack of rhomboids!) 

Have you really agreed to a personal trainer, Barb?

Since January 1, 2011 I have gone to the gym most days - I may have missed three so far.  Each time, I increase my cardio by 5 minutes or oogle at my calorie counter on the elliptical monster.  I grab weights, work my arms, get comfy with the leg press and pray to the ab machine.  All of this and I still feel like it's just not working.

I woke up last week and said, "you need someone who will push you, make you reach farther, dig deep and find the last ounce of strength you have."  I gave into the pressure of the infomercial last summer and NO, even you can't do it for me Tony Horton of P90X.

Guess what, I signed up for a freebie.  Yes, a freebie appointment with my very own personal killer - uh - oh, I mean personal trainer. His name is Grant.  He is a body builder.  That really doesn't matter because I have no desire to look like him or any other Schwarzenegger wannabe but I do like the idea he knows what to do and how to get there.

My first appointment.

I was ready.

Get on the scale.  

Let me measure you.


How many abs can you do in nine different ways?

Now, let's move to arms.  30 minutes.


Now, let's move to legs.  30 minutes.

End of session.

Care to sign up for additional sessions?

Sucker.

He had me.  Sold me.  He pushed me.  Forced me.  

What are you goals?  Want to get lean?

Want to learn about nutrition?

Reduce your stress?

Done.

I signed the waiver.  Please don't sue me if I kill you.  

Or, if you can't walk up the stairs or you can't sit down or your co-workers laugh at you because you waddle.

Not my fault.

I signed up for three times a week...for now.

I got a text message that afternoon.  "How do your wheels feel, Barb?"

My response.  "Good."

His return text, "Let me know in the morning not right now."

So, the next morning, I got up, actually, fell down.  Picked up my phone and texted my personal trainer, "Help, I've fallen and I can't get up and it's because of you!"

Believe me, I am having fun in a sick sort of way.  Take my advice.

Nothing is free.