Bears, Lizards and Ducks - Oh my!
Recently a friend asked me to join her on a little adventure.
Feeling the need to improve her lifestyle, she recruited me to partake in a ritual known to many, experienced by some, and neglected by others.
(Cue suspense music now.)
This adventure sends us into a realm of physical stress, muscular pain, self-induced intimidation.
Into an area where we encounter bears, lizards and ducks. (Interestingly enough, the ducks are the most challenging of the three.)
Muscles strain as we pull and push our way through a system of rows, push-ups, squats and dead-lifts.
Yes, we're going to a gym.
There.
I said it.
Thankfully we have a coach who is patient.
Patient and pretty easy-going.
You'd have to be if you were to explain, and re-explain simple body movements that our bodies seem to argue against.
Tighten those abs. Keep your back straight. Elbows in.
And we squat like ducks and waddle across the gym; and we crawl like bears and lunge like lizards, giggling at ourselves, secretly hoping that the place isn't rigged up with cameras. Hoping that these warm-up exercises aren't created to humiliate the newbies and entertain the ones who've gone before.
The rowing isn't a problem. I can row-row-row my boat and quite enjoy it.
But, I've determined that push-ups, on the other hand, are some sort of ancient torture move. Down you go. Now try to get back up.
(Cue in wicked cackle.)
The day after the first night of our adventure, the muscles screamed pretty hard. My arms protested greatly. "Get out while you can!" was their mantra.
(It's those push-ups, I tell you)
The day after the second night of our trip to the gym, the muscles were giving up the protest and agreeing that maybe, just maybe, there is something to this.
Although there was still that battle in the muscle fibres.
While exerting, the muscles cried, "Crazy woman! Stop now!"
But on the rise after the squat, after the push-up, the voices called out, "Congratulations - you did it!"
The day after the third night of our expedition, the medicine ball appeared and the dead lift was taught.
In my mind's eye, all I could see was those huge guys with tree trunks for thighs, squatting down to lift this multi-weighted bar up, up, and over.
Visions of the 'over' and down-she-goes went through my head briefly.
All that being said, I am thankful.
Thankful for the friend who suggested this little journey.
Thankful for the coach who teaches and accepts.
Even my muscles are whispering a "thank-you". However quiet those words are, I still hear them.
Thank-you for the adventure that wouldn't be if we didn't just go and take a wee bit of a risk. Exposing ourselves (because at the gym, well, being dignified kind of flies out the window) to new things that stretch us. That grow us.
And in this case, that hopefully shape us.
Feeling the need to improve her lifestyle, she recruited me to partake in a ritual known to many, experienced by some, and neglected by others.
(Cue suspense music now.)
This adventure sends us into a realm of physical stress, muscular pain, self-induced intimidation.
Into an area where we encounter bears, lizards and ducks. (Interestingly enough, the ducks are the most challenging of the three.)
Muscles strain as we pull and push our way through a system of rows, push-ups, squats and dead-lifts.
Yes, we're going to a gym.
There.
I said it.
Thankfully we have a coach who is patient.
Patient and pretty easy-going.
You'd have to be if you were to explain, and re-explain simple body movements that our bodies seem to argue against.
Tighten those abs. Keep your back straight. Elbows in.
And we squat like ducks and waddle across the gym; and we crawl like bears and lunge like lizards, giggling at ourselves, secretly hoping that the place isn't rigged up with cameras. Hoping that these warm-up exercises aren't created to humiliate the newbies and entertain the ones who've gone before.
The rowing isn't a problem. I can row-row-row my boat and quite enjoy it.
But, I've determined that push-ups, on the other hand, are some sort of ancient torture move. Down you go. Now try to get back up.
(Cue in wicked cackle.)
The day after the first night of our adventure, the muscles screamed pretty hard. My arms protested greatly. "Get out while you can!" was their mantra.
(It's those push-ups, I tell you)
The day after the second night of our trip to the gym, the muscles were giving up the protest and agreeing that maybe, just maybe, there is something to this.
Although there was still that battle in the muscle fibres.
While exerting, the muscles cried, "Crazy woman! Stop now!"
But on the rise after the squat, after the push-up, the voices called out, "Congratulations - you did it!"
The day after the third night of our expedition, the medicine ball appeared and the dead lift was taught.
In my mind's eye, all I could see was those huge guys with tree trunks for thighs, squatting down to lift this multi-weighted bar up, up, and over.
Visions of the 'over' and down-she-goes went through my head briefly.
All that being said, I am thankful.
Thankful for the friend who suggested this little journey.
Thankful for the coach who teaches and accepts.
Even my muscles are whispering a "thank-you". However quiet those words are, I still hear them.
Thank-you for the adventure that wouldn't be if we didn't just go and take a wee bit of a risk. Exposing ourselves (because at the gym, well, being dignified kind of flies out the window) to new things that stretch us. That grow us.
And in this case, that hopefully shape us.
Self-induced intimidation... nice word choice...
ReplyDeleteThe duck's the best.