Week 2: The Trepidatious Princess

trep·i·da·tion (trěp'ĭ-dā'shən)
n. A state of alarm or dread; apprehension. See Synonyms: fear.

The worst part is over, right? I mean, getting started is usually harder than anything else. I made a decision: get into better shape, take control of my health, create a better flow of energy through my life, etc. And I followed through. I have my personal trainer/life coach/kickbutt friend Casey. I have a small cadre of girl friends and family members to love me through every aching muscle. I walked and jogged on the days I said I would. I bought squeezy little workout clothings, a stability ball and 5 lb. dumbbells. Last Thursday morning, I talked to Casey on the phone, just like we planned. She emails me two sets of weight lifting workouts. Some of these exercises require the use of gym equipment. Uh-oh. The gym?! Out loud, I agree enthusiastically, but inside, I'm starting to think that is just asking too much of me. When I did my treadmill test, I scurried in toward the treadmills, iPod headphones already scrunched into my ears and sunglasses that stayed on my face the whole time. I do not know why I am afraid of that place--the people are nice enough, but it fills me with feelings of dread and inadequacy. Thursday night, I do not go to the gym. Friday, I intend to go the gym, but end up riding my bike for 15 miles to watch Iron Man 2 at the Cine-Capri. Saturday, I arrive at the gym at 10:45 pm and find out they are no longer a 24-hour facility. They closed at 7pm. Darn. I play two games of tennis with my girl friend over the weekend--an hour and a half of good sweaty fun. My arms, legs, chest and butt ache in that totally good-my muscles are starting to get used to being used-kind of way. Sunday evening, I finally roll into the gym. I pull out my little slip of paper, memorize the workout, and stuff it into my pants pocket. I say hello to the desk clerk this time and stride confidently to the back, where they store the dumbbells, benches and stability balls. I pick my poisons: purple dumbbells and a beige ball. I go through each set: arms, legs, arms, legs; 4 different combos, 2 sets and 12-15 reps of each exercise. I focus intently on my form and my breathing. The half hour whizzes by, I'm drenched and curiously satisfied. I have conquered the gym! Okay, not conquered, entirely. But I showed up. And that really counts for something.