Yesterday I strode confidently into the health club that we are members of with my iPod strapped to my bicep (see, I'm already using working out-type words!) ready to lift weights. My confidence didn't last long. First I headed for the rows of gleaming Nautilus equipment. Normally, I have headed upstairs to the cardio equipment, where everything is safe and familiar. But since I have been walking at home, I really needed to become better acquainted with the weight machines. Boy, these machines looked kind of daunting and pretty confusing. I glanced surreptitiously around and everyone in there seemed to know exactly what they were doing as they heaved and hefted. I just needed to pretend like I knew what I was doing so that no one would notice me. Thankfully, there weren't that many people in there. I sat down on a seat with padded bars by my ankles. By glancing quickly at the instructions (thank goodness for pictures!) I could tell I should place my ankles under the bar and raise my feet, thus working my quads. See, I can do this! I tried to raise my legs but nothing budged. Oops, adjust the weight level. Then it was doable. I did 10 lifts and then rested and took the opportunity to glance around in this weight room, that I now officially belonged in. I could learn to enjoy this. It wasn't so bad. The next 10 lifts were quite difficult, I must admit. In fact it hurt, like something was burning, or tearing. That can't be good. "My body is a temple....my body is a temple..." I needed to encourage myself. I glanced up again at my next rest. Oh my gosh, that woman is so in shape. I wouldn't mind looking like that, to be perfectly honest. She must work out all the time. Oh, please don't come over here. Don't sit by me, don't sit by me, please don't sit by me. It figures. We are going to look like the perfect example of the "before and after" picture. Here's me:
Okay, I really don't smoke. The cigarette was just for show. And I really don't want to look like the very fit woman. Rod would tak one look at me and run screaming for his life. He would be afraid....very afraid.
After a few half-hearted attempts at working various muscle groups, I scuttled out, thoroughly discouraged. Today, it hurts to lift anything,including a cereal box, or even laugh. So, I guess that the weights do their job. I'll keep it up though...I have a goal in mind. :-)
"My trust is not that I am holy, but that, being unholy, Christ died for me. My rest is here, not in what I am or shall be or feel or know, but in what Christ is and must be,--in what Christ did and is still doing as He stands before yonder throne of glory." Charles Spurgeon