Can't Keep a Good Girl Down or a Bad One Either

Told ya my pity party would be short lived.  I spent most of today still in a funk.  Every Wednesday I go to see my trainer, Danny.  Yes, even trainers have trainers.  Like anyone else, we can sometimes lack perspective and the watchful, unbiased eye of a professional can be most useful.

During my session things just seemed to click.  I felt coordinated and in control.  He was praising me along the way that felt oh so good. I'm overly wrapped up in the need for his approval.  I finish a lift and immediately search his face for any traces of disappointment or the validation that I crave.

Danny kept a close eye on me careful to monitor my shakes.   The shakes are an outward sign of stress that will betray me every time.  I've learned how to hold onto myself and stand on one foot to make them a little less noticeable.  He asked me how I was doing and I quickly said, "fine:".  I was fired up and I wanted to keep going.  By now he knows his job is as much to rein me in as spur me on.  He made me hold out my hands and I was revealed as the liar I am.  We proceeded with the workout at a reasonable pace so as not to offend my nervous system.  He handles me like I would handle my clients.  He gives me the same well reasoned advice I would give my own clients.  I need him for his expertise but more so I need him to gently remind me that the rules do apply to me.

Yesterday, I was mourning the slow insidious advancement of my decline.  Today, I'm more optimistic and recommitted to the fight.  I'm going down swinging.  Literally.