Those of you who've been keeping up know that, as announced in my July 28 column, I started a new fitness journey July 8 with trainer Kameelah Harris of W.O.W. Fitness. I'd promised to keep you posted.
After 11 weeks (I'm in my 12th week as of this writing), I'd gotten rid of about 15 pounds ... which I figure is about one-third the weight I would have gotten rid of had I worked as hard, and kept my mouth off as much food, several decades ago.
Back then I'd be built like Jennifer Lopez by now, and be cellulite/fat roll/saddlebag free, after being made to do such things as:
• Going two, sometimes three miles at a time, at high levels, on the elliptical machine ... a machine I kinda liked before all this.
• Flipping a giant tractor tire that's about my height -- I kid you not, and the one I had to flip was called Little Bertha, which means yes, there is a Big Bertha.
• Doing these torturous things called Mountain Climbers (which I, ahem, have to do one leg at a time rather than switching legs simultaneously).
• Doing squats with weights and jumping jacks with weights and step-ups with weights and "skull crushers" with weights.
• Doing tricep dips and inchworms and flutters and shuffles and planks, oh my!
• And who invented "plank jacks"? The Marquis de Sade? Who sits there and thinks of combining a plank with horizontal jumping jacks, which are basically mountain climbers on crack? "The plank jack is a great cardio move; it raises the heart rate while working both your lower and upper body," reads a Popsugar.com how-to article. No, I'm sure the plank jack was originally introduced in Dante's Inferno. It was on one of those lower circles of hell, the punishment that awaited those who'd committed the deadly sin of Sloth.
After all this ... I'm still not quite shopping in the Misses section of the clothing store. But at least clothes that used to cringe when they saw me coming fit comfortably now or are loose. I can see my left foot, which wasn't always the case in the past because my ankle would periodically blow up to the size of Hometree -- where the Na'vis lived in the movie Avatar -- due to fluid retention. And I've concluded that there's no way I would have made it through our recent move without these workouts.
Now, about getting up before the chickens to wage this War on Weight. They say if you do something for 21 days, it's officially a habit. And you may be thinking that after 11 weeks I should have not only gotten used to getting up at 4 a.m. for four of the five days I go to the gym, but embraced it. Look, getting up that early for anything other than to leave for vacation or to see what Santa Claus has left you under the Christmas tree never gets to be painless for those of us who are inclined to be night owls and/or just can't go to bed at 8 p.m.
But I have come to respect that 5-6 a.m. gym time slot. With a never-ending stream of demands on my time, I knew that 5 a.m. would be a time least likely to get hijacked. I'm just quietly dreading doing it in the dead of winter ... but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
As I said in the first fitness-quest column, I dare not quit because I don't want to have to go through that gosh-awful soreness again should I restart. As it happened, I was in for a bit more soreness. Kameelah had been trying to encourage me to do the W.O.W. Fitness boot camps that take place outdoors weekdays at 5 a.m. Working out on pavement, rather than in the gym, would bring the aches back, she assured. Ahem, that was all I needed to hear to avoid boot camp.
I was ambushed one day, however, when I showed up for my Saturday morning group-fitness class only to find that the instructor had taken that day off. Kameelah marched us out to the parking lot across the street, where boot camp shenanigans usually take place.
Soreness wasn't the only concern. At least the 5 a.m. boot camp happens while it's still dark and quiet ... rather than at 10 a.m. Saturday in a parking lot next door to a busy local bank branch. The unwitting customers who pulled up to make their deposits and withdrawals must have gotten an eyeful when they saw us not just jogging and doing lunges, but using the tall, slim parking posts in the lot to do exercises that somewhat resembled pole dancing.
All in all, it has been quite the adventure. But I'd rather be fit than be dignified. I'll continue to fight the good fight and hope that maybe one day I'll be able to do proper mountain climbers, if not look like J-Lo.
In the meantime, if you see folks making some straaaange moves in a southwest Little Rock parking lot, remember this column.
W.O.W. me with email:
hwilliams@arkansasonline.com
Style on 09/29/2019