boy cryingOw.  I am miserable.  Every part of my body hurts, but especially my legs. I’ve done a week of personal training and am seriously beginning to question my sanity.  Why did I agree to such torture?

I have never felt pain like this before, which is saying something because I am a mess and constantly hurt myself.  I even successfully did P90x last year.

The most painful part of that workout being listening to Tony Horton and his generic jokes every work out.

I expected some soreness after that devil-man trainer gave me the work out of my life, but I also expected to be able to move my legs and have overall control of my muscles.

Not so much.  Rather, I have extreme difficulty doing regular tasks, like lifting my legs to walk.  I had no idea I would be so miserable.

This morning when my alarm went off, I awoke to extreme pain in my legs, even before I placed them on the ground.

I took some time sitting up and tried to ignore the stabbing pain in my abs.  I put on my orthopedic shoes and tried to stand up, but my legs refused to cooperate.

wheelchairInstead, they turned to jelly, and not the delicious grape jelly inside of donuts.  That jelly is probably what led to the need for a personal trainer.

As I stumbled to the bathroom in my “magic shoes”, I realized I had to pee and would inevitably have to sit down (yet another curse of being a woman).  That was a lot harder than it sounded.

My legs wouldn’t allow me to sit, as they were boycotting my workouts and in a state of mutiny.  So, I had to use other measures.

I looked around my minuscule bathroom, and for once, was happy it was so small.  I was able to put my hands on both sides of the doorknob and lower myself onto the toilet, like a crane lowering a large object. In this case, it was my fat ass.

I screamed profanity and probably woke up everyone in the neighborhood, but I was ultimately successful.

After a few moments, I realized although I was able to sit down, there was no way I could get up.

I contemplated asking my husband to bring me my laptop, and a tall boy, and thought about working from home from the comfort of my tiled restroom.

working on floorAlthough sitting down was sweet relief, I knew I couldn’t stay there all day, as employers typically frowned upon working from a toilet seat.

I looked around for any possible avenue to assist, and found the bathtub was my only option.  I was also wishing I had done more than lightly clean it the week before, but realized that was no time to evaluate my inability to clean.

I pushed with everything I had and was able to stand up, amidst screams and inappropriate comments about whether my trainer was born out of wedlock.

I now appreciate the simple tasks in life that I took for granted…like sitting.  Although I’m a fan of sitting, and prefer to do that instead of any kind of physical activity, I have recently found myself contemplating if sitting is really worth it.

I try to do the math and calculate if sitting down  is worth the agony of getting up again.

It usually isn’t.

toddler bent overI also recently discovered if I drop something on the floor, it’s gone.  It’s as if I dropped it into that crevasse between my car seat and the console.

It’s gone forever and I’m never getting it back.

If I try, I know I’ll look like the guy from There’s Something about Mary who had the leg braces and lacked control of his lower limbs.

I have decided to stick with the training, because clearly I’m a sadist..or a masochist…(which one is it?).

I have also contemplated suggesting the gym include a personal assistant with training packages, because after a training session, one will need an assistant to do the easiest of tasks, like getting the mail and cooking dinner.

The good news is that since I have difficulty walking, it has hindered my ability to go to the fridge for snacks.  But that’s okay, because I know a few choice restaurants that deliver…

One Thought on “Fallout: The misery after a week of personal training

  1. I’m cheering for you!!! it will get (a little easier) and less painful I promise (c:

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