Recently we purchased a family membership at the local health club. The benefits: family swim times, aerobics, wall climbing, weightlifting...and sauna. We also thought it would be great to have one-on-one time with our oldest Naomi, as well as providing a positive place for her and her friends to hang out. Jeff and I have always enjoyed working out together so this decision seemed like a great one. I so looked forward to starting to workout again. Having said that, how many of you would ease into a workout as were often advised? Or, would you do what I did and launch right into things as though I were still twenty-five years old?

As I skimmed over the group fitness information in the club brochure, my eyes settled on Body Pump. The description was just what I wanted: a toning and conditioning class with weights. The text continued, "Perfect for males or females who want to add strength training to their current workout. All fitness levels encouraged to attend." Perfect. I lifted weights in high school.

My first class was intense. I wasn't sure how much weight to warm up with but I'm sure I used too much. It just went downhill from there. During class as we did our millionth lunge, I thought I was going to vomit. I have never gotten nauseous when I worked out. This wasn't a good sign. After class ended I put away my workout weights, mat and stepper block thingies, then proceeded out the door and down a flight of stairs toward an exit that would lead me...out of there. As I descended the stairs a few steps my legs gave way. I had to hold onto the railing to prevent myself from tumbling down the last twenty steps. The next day my body felt like it had been rammed by a moose, caught in its rack and tossed a hundred feet. I was told to give my muscles a break and do something aerobic the next day. Yeah, right. I could barely put one foot in front of the other. For several days afterward, every time I sat down I had to hold onto something and ease myself into the chair. I kept thinking to myself, I need to do this just for me.

That first day back at the gym reminded me of an email my sister sent me a few years ago. When I read it then, I was at JoJo's gymnastics practice, laptop open, catching up on my emails. I laughed so hard, tears streamed down my face. Some of you may have already seen this or a story similar to it. I think it's well worth reprinting here, with a few choice words changed. Enjoy!

A Week At The Gym

Dear Diary,

For my 60th birthday this year, my daughter Rachel (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.

I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My daughter seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

Monday:

Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She is something of a Greek goddess-with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Belinda gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring! Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!

Tuesday:

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy bar in the air-then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda'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. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair ‘monster'. Why the heck would anyone invent a machine to stimulate an activity render obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other crap too.

Thursday:

Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late-it took me that long to tie my shoes. Belinda took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. She sent another skinny cheerleader type to find me. Then, as punishment, she put me on the rowing machine-which I sank.

Friday:

I dislike that Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little cheerleader! If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it.

Belinda 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 damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?

Saturday:

Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my 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 daughter Rachel (the little wench) will choose a gift for me that is fun-like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!!!