STORY TOOLS

• E-mail story
• iPod friendly
• Printer friendly

Tell us about it

• What would you add to this story? Tell us what we missed.
• Do you have photos from this event? Documents we need to see? Share with us.
• Upload photos & videos
• More ways to get your stuff online and in the paper.

More Local News

• Eagle to charge at newsstands
• Marco Island Police Briefs: Nov. 21, 2008
• We are family: Marco community to have Thanksgiving feast together

Share and Enjoy [?]

In Florida, it’s almost always swimsuit weather. Not so for our neighbors to the North who are finally peeling off the layers. Some are discovering one of those extra layers is permanently attached to the body.

How did that happen? Time for a personal trainer. The following is a whimsical look at one woman’s personal training experience (sent to me by a Minnesota friend). Since the piece was rather lengthy, I’ve edited it a bit.

Dear diary ...

For my 50th birthday this year, my husband (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at a local health club. Although I’m still in great shape since playing on my college tennis team 30 years ago, I decided to go ahead and give it a try.

I called the club and made my reservation with a personal trainer named Joe, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear. My husband seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started. The club suggested I keep a diary to chart my progress.

Monday — Although it was tough to get out of bed at 6 a.m., it was worth it when I arrived at the club to find Joe waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god, with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo hoo!

Joe gave me a tour and showed me the workout machines. After five minutes on the treadmill, he took my pulse and was alarmed it was running so fast, but I attribute it to standing next to him in his lycra aerobic outfit. I enjoyed watching the skillful way he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring.

Tuesday — I drank a whole pot of coffee, but finally made it out the door. Joe made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air — then he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Joe’s rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT! It’s a whole new life for me.

Wednesday — The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. Driving is OK as long as I don’t try to steer or stop.

Joe was impatient with me today, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is very annoying.

My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Joe put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to stimulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Joe told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other (expletive) too!

Thursday — Joe was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I was a half-hour late but it took me that long to tie my shoes. Joe made me work out with dumbbells. When he wasn’t looking, I ran and hid in the ladies’ room. He sent Muffy to find me.

Friday — I hate that (expletive) Joe more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. That stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleader. If there were a single part of my body that I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.

Joe wanted me to work on my triceps. I don’t have any triceps! And if you don’t want dents in the floor, don’t hand me the (expletive) barbells or anything else that weighs more than a sandwich.

Saturday — Joe left a message on my answering machine in a grating, shrill voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing him made me want to smash the machine with my day planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching 11 straight hours of the weather channel.

Sunday — I’m having the church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank God that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is more fun — like a root canal or a hysterectomy.

Note: This story was reprinted with permission from a May 2007 issue of the Villager newspaper (St. Paul, Minn.). I called the editor to inquire about the original source. The author is unknown.

Kay Sager is a certified fitness and aquatic specialist living at Port of the Islands. She is a personal trainer using land and water fitness and teaches swimming. She also has written articles for Physician and Sports Medicine among other publications. Kay can be reached by e-mail: kswimfit@aol.com.