Gym Rat? Who’s got that kinda time?

I’ve accidently been strength training for over three years.

The first time I went to this gym, I didn’t know that that’s what I was going to be doing. I went on a referral from a friend, who happened to be my massage therapist, who was also probably tired of trying to work out the crazy tightness that was my upper back and shoulders, and who didn’t really give me any specifics about the place. Just that they were nice people, and it’s one on one training. Perfect!

My first visit consisted of a lot of information about some super strong muscle-y dudes I’d never heard of, but… I’m an information nerd and this was all new information to me so I was all ears. I was told that I’d only have to come in once a week and work my ass off for 20 – 40 minutes. Eventually I would be stretching that out to once every 2 weeks, then maybe every 4… etc. I remember thinking, “What the… what? Does this guy even WANT clients?”, because it was the complete opposite of every other bit of fitness advice I’d ever read or heard. How in the world am I going to accomplish anything only working out once a week?? Why then, do “they” always tell you to work out 3-5 days per week? Maybe this guys a little confused? Now I’m confused. But hey, I’m gonna give this a go anyways, see what happens.

Well let me tell you, I had never worked that hard in my life. It was about 40 minutes of hard, keep going until you can’t go anymore kind of work. The kind of workout when you’re thinking your arms/legs/ass/something, is gonna fall right off but the trainer says, “How about two more?”. Like, did my hamstring just pop off and run away crying? Should I go comfort the poor thing? Did Mr. Trainer Dude even notice? Should I say something? Did he just say “just 2 more”…  AGAIN??!!?

I left the gym that day feeling dead ass tired. I was so tired I thought perhaps I should pull over on the side of the highway and have a nap (I only live 10 minutes away) and then, oh no, am I gonna soil my pants? What the hell? I’m a morning pooper, it’s well after noon, dammit, please don’t fall asleep driving and pooping. I would be mortified to have shat in my lulu’s. After my LONG drive home, I dragged my wilted self into the bathroom (yes, I made it) then bed and proceeded to have that nap!

— if the above two paragraphs frighten you, don’t be. I REALLY pushed it on that first workout. That’s because I’m a dork. A really competitive with herself, stubborn dork. Who, enjoys showing any remote form of weakness about as much as I would enjoy kicking kittens (just to clarify, that means not at all). A normal person would have been tired yes, but not to that extreme I’m sure. Probably less pooping too.

Ok, so, I obviously didn’t know squat (giggle) about strength training and you can bet your booty that when I woke up from my nap, I went and googled the crap out of all those muscle-y dudes he had mentioned. They were legit (and kinda hot). But, still hard to wrap my brain around this once a week workout deal. Keep in mind, this is a full body workout – not just legs, or arms, or chest… etc.

It took me a couple weeks before I went back, but I did. My recovery was pretty rough and lasted probably four days. It basically hurt to move, all. four. days. On that second visit though, I worked just as hard, if not harder, and though I didn’t suffer all the immediate after effects of the first workout, it soon became clear that once per week was more than enough as I definitely needed the recovery time.

I’ve now been working out there since July of 2013. For the whole first year, I went once per week. I really liked it. I was consistently making strength gains, pulling and pushing weights I never thought I’d be able to move. But then I noticed I was starting to wimp out. I wasn’t making the same gains, and I didn’t have the same drive to go workout as I’d once had. I was feeling discouraged and weak. Then my trainer mentioned that I may not be recovering in one week anymore. I had it in my head that if I wasn’t sore anymore, I was recovered. Nope. Time to push it to every two weeks (well, I first tried one and a half weeks but my work schedule made that difficult so two it was) and I’ve been happily working away mostly on that schedule ever since.

Until today. Today I realized (meaning my trainer had to point it out to me) that I may just not be recovering enough in two weeks anymore. This STILL hits my ears, rattles around in my head with all of the main stream fitness information out there that pushes the 3-5 times per week minimum. Even though I now know, without a doubt, that that’s not true. I know because it’s all there, on paper. He writes down every rep, every weight, every lift. Every time. I have records of my workouts dating back to July of 2013; dated, detailed records that spell out exactly what my progress has been from workout to workout. The times when life got in the way, and I had to cancel a workout and reschedule it for two – sometimes four – weeks further away, I rocked it! How can that be? How can a person take a six week break from strength training and come back and kick it in the ass? I don’t know the scientific details behind it, I just know that it’s true.

In December of 2015, I decided I was going to start training for Powerlifting, and again, I didn’t know a darn thing about it at that time, I just knew that it’s focused on three lifts – the squat, the bench press, and the deadlift – and the powerlifting community looks like a bunch of awesome, inspiring, supportive people that I would love to hang out with. In ten months, with only 17 workouts, I’ve increased my weights on those three lifts by 140 pounds. That’s only SEVENTEEN workouts!! With two and a half years of heavy strength training already behind me, at a time when a lot of people are trying desperately to power through a strength gaining plateau, I’d say that’s pretty darn good progress.

I’ve had 88 workouts since that day in July of 2013 when I began my strength training journey. All 88 of them have been hard work. All 88 recoveries have been tough – some way tougher than others – but always worth it. I’m happy to report, there has never again been the excrement emergency either. I’ve almost peed during a deadlift but that’s “normal” I hear – at least for a 42 year old mother of two.

With the help of my trainer and this method of training… I plan on competing in my first powerlifting meet next summer. Why not? Don’t they say life begins at 40?

I never knew I had all of this strength in me, but I’m sure glad I found it. I’m curious to see where it will take me.