Or what doesn’t make you stronger, kills you?
Today, I had my strength test with my personal trainer Eugene. Eugene is pretty awesome, and the first trainer that I feel like I’m getting somewhere with (I’ve had 2 previously that didn’t quite work out..). The strength test consisted of planks, squats, bench press, weighted walk, lateral pull downs, one leg dead lifts, and one leg bends. All of the exercises included weights based on a calculation of my lean body mass and some other numbers, which is apparently a lot. I developed calluses for the first time ever. But I passed. I passed in “running” colors and I am ecstatic! Sure I can run 39.3 miles in 48 hours but I can’t do more than 10 push-ups to save my life. Thankfully, those weren’t on the test..
As a result of the test, I now I have calluses on my hands. It feels like a right of passage into the strength training world. Yet I spent half the training session complaining about how my ‘girl hands’ were gone. Sometimes I wish someone out there would write a book for women on about how to understand women. I don’t get it – I felt so incredibly strong and empowered and at the same exact time hated the idea of my hands not being feminine and soft. Who actually gives a crap about the texture of my hands? No clue. It would appear I’m coming to a crossroads – following the stereotypical ‘hit the treadmill and leave the gym after some crunches’ routine is a thing of the past. Grabbing those weights, earning some calluses and defining myself as a strong female athlete is a thing of the present AND the future. I’ll worry about the manicure later.
Workout song of the day:
