After finding out what was wrong with me last week, I had no idea how to go about fixing it.
Now, after my first couple of sessions with Rob at Complete Body Care, I know that it involves a lot of balance-heavy exercises, active stretching, strengthening my abs and almost killing me on a treadmill.
Watch the video of me struggling into this pose (and other humiliations) here
Aside from all the “trying to kill me with a treadmill” shenanigans, I am happy to report that Rob is as good of a trainer as he is a massage therapist (though I honestly don’t know if I curse more in the gym, or on the massage table). He keeps the mood upbeat and encouraging, even though I am obviously a big, wimp with the muscle tone of a sloth.*
*Have you seen these things? They literally just hang around ALL day! Lucky bastards.
One thing that Rob determined in my assessment last week was that I let my quads do all the work – he described them as the keeners at the front of the class that jump up to answer all the questions and take all the work. While my hamstrings are the slackers at the back of the room that are more than happy to laze about and let the keener quads do all the work. Rob plans on giving me straight “A” hamstrings.
Which explains a lot, really – over the last couple of years I have actively sought out different exercises to lift and firm my butt, but they never worked and my quads just kept getting stronger. I blamed the exercises.
But Rob plans on changing all that – he said I have a toxic relationship with my quads and he is staging an intervention.
Every time I do a squat or a step, if I admit that I’m using my quads instead of my hamstrings, he makes me do some horrible exercise – like a shoulder bridge with my feet on a Pilates ball – that will force my hamstrings into action.
And about that treadmill – reports of my attempted murder have been greatly exaggerated. I was given a 7-minute circuit to complete – increasing the incline by 5 every minute, then decreasing over the same time-frame.
I honestly thought this would be a piece of cake,** I use the treadmill all the time, and I always work up to a pretty steep incline, so I was pretty confident that I would show Rob I wasn’t such a pussy after all.
Unfortunately, that’s not exactly how it went down.
**How much better would this be if he gave me a piece of cake!?
On my second
run slow jog walk on the treadmill, I simply could not keep up. As I approached the top of the incline, I was beet-red, soaked in sweat and couldn’t breath. But I am nothing if not determined to make a fool of myself so I kept pushing one foot in front of the other. Sensing my imminent doom, Rob casually reached over and slowed the conveyor under my feet.
Then he slowed it some more.
When my speed was reduced to “strolling-through-the-farmer’s-market” pace, I was finally able to take a breath and beg for mercy. Then, after another round of strengthening exercises, HE MADE ME GO ON THE TREADMILL AGAIN!***
***Seriously – where is my cake?!?!
After witnessing my
treadmill-induced near black out poor attempt at cardio, Rob decided to take my weekly massage in a new direction – he was going to rub my diaphragm.
Stay with me, here – his reasoning being that I spend so much time hunched over my desk that all the muscles in my chest are constricting the muscle system that controls my breath. This reduces oxygen intake and makes cardio-heavy activities difficult.
Sounds good to me – it’s not that I’m an out of shape fat-ass, my diaphragm is just constricted!
But I’ll tell you, after he was done rubbing my stomach and stretching out my pecs, I could actually take full, deep breaths without feeling any restriction or pain in my chest. Rob thought I could probably run a mile.
Thankfully he didn’t throw me back on the treadmill to confirm his theory.
I can’t wait to see what he has in store for me next week!
*Check out Nina’s blog about her first visit to Rob…