Poked, Prodded, Weighed, and Measured Like Cattle

I'm lucky enough to be working for a company that isn't doing too horribly in this economy. Because, they can still maintain the luxury of having our own private gym on campus. And I'm even more lucky that it offers personal training at a greatly discounted rate. So with the upcoming NWM in November, I decided to enlist some help in my training. Albeit, my trainer isn't going to come on any of my runs, but I've asked him to focus on my core strength which will ultimately improve my endurance and speed.

Today was my first day so I excitedly showed up early to workout. Little did I know that the first day of training equated to personal assessment day, ie. putting me through multiple tests to acquire my baseline of fitness. The first part was exactly like a doctor's appointment, but without a cute nurse. He just took my blood pressure, heart rate, weight, etc. But, I don't think I was quite ready for the part where my 2% body-fat, muscular trainer broke out the fat calipers and tape measure. In my head, I was picturing that I was at an Over-Eaters Anonymous meeting and saying "Hi, I'm Surfrunner, and I'm a fattie". Everyone together now, "Hi Fattie Surfrunner".

Now, I understand that he needs some kind of measurement to help me quantify my goal. But, that little girl in me who once looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man was seriously cringing. It's my constant internal battle to convince myself that I've made it past that stage in my life, and that I'm not going back. I'm even alright with occasionally getting a little more doughy than normal, as long as it doesn't drastically alter my appearance or health. However, it's entirely different when muscle-boy trainer pinches as much fat as he can from my arms, belly (thanks beer), and thighs, then promptly squashes it between the fat calipers. Can't I just measure my success rate by my finishing time at NWM? I could've done without the embarrassment.

Anyway, I got over it and tried my hardest to rip through the subsequent cardio and strength tests. I definitely had something to prove to Mr. "I don't look like I've ever eaten a french fry" trainer. And because of that, I think my results turned out somewhat skewed. It seems my body statistics are of an overweight, lazy engineer. But, my performance statistics displayed scores closer to a normal athlete. HUZZAH! In any case, I really would like to improve my body stats, so we'll see how this trainer works out. Keep in mind, that I'm saying this after I've eaten two wedges of Quiche for dinner and an entire pint of strawberries for dessert. Maybe what I really need is Jenny Craig.