Slow and steady wins when working out

My exercise program at GoodLife Fitness has inspired my husband.

I was given one pass intended to let friends and family try the gym. He expected magical results. He figured if I could lose 10 pounds by walking my dog and lifting a weight or two, surely he'd have a six pack in no time. He forgot, however, that you need to work out more than once every five years to see massive muscles form.

Because he has pride and was exercising near one of the most muscular men in the gym, he pushed himself more than he should have. I could hear his muscles screaming in dissent three machines away. He was in pain for days. For once, when I was preparing to have company over Saturday and he said that he couldn't lift a finger, I believed him.

The day my husband tortured himself I saw my trainer, Silvio Fava, working with a customer. We chatted for a bit; and I told him that I'd been following his advice to slowly get into working out. Nevertheless, I'm still getting results. He'd told me to contact him as soon as felt strong or hit a plateau.

I wouldn't have disagreed with anything he said; he looks like he could break an oak tree in half with his pinkie.

Seeing Fava taught me a lesson, though; I should wear my glasses when I work out. I'm near sighted. My eyesight isn't bad enough for me to confuse the pop machine with a bicep one. However, it is bad enough for me to have trouble recognizing people when they're a fair distance away from me.

How did seeing him teach me a lesson, you ask? Apparently it's not a rare event for men who frequent the gym to have a shaved head and large muscles. Coincidentally, the day I was there, all of them were wearing a similar colour shirt. As I was watching a program and riding the bike, I noticed my trainer about to leave. I waved goodbye. He didn't wave back.

I thought it odd but continued sweating. A half hour later, I saw my trainer leave again and realized the first man must not have been Fava.
Again, I waved. And again there was no return gesture. A few minutes later the real Fava left. I waved again, but he turned just as I made the gesture.

At that point, my husband leaned over and said "Do you wave to all the men in this gym?" "Only the bald ones," I said.

He found great glee in my silly slips of the hand. As we rode home, every man he saw who was even slightly bald, he'd joke "There's another one; you'd better say hi."

My turn for glee came the following day when my husband was in such pain he could barely move. On our way to the store, I saw a bald man and said "Maybe you should be friendly too and wave; oh wait, you can't lift your arm that high."

Thinking of the way my husband tried to work out reminds me of the fable about the hare and the tortoise. Fava instructed me to keep my program steady and safe to prevent me from hurting myself. My husband reminded me that slow and steady wins the race - especially when you're racing against yourself.

char.adam@mts.net www.twitter.com/charpetpage