Nice Altoids! Part I

Last Saturday I redeemed my free one-hour fitness session with a personal trainer. It was something I'd won from Plume Blue, a dating site, and supposed to be something to do as a "date." But in all honesty, dripping sweat from my neck, back and arm pits is not something I want to do with myself, not to mention with a date. I just can't imagine that it would make a very good first impression. And as long as we're being honest here, if I'm gonna to sweat profusely with a member of the opposite sex, it'll not be the result of suffering through multiple rotations of pull-ups, squats, rowing and the like!

At any rate, I chose to go it alone to this fitness session at 2:15 pm on Saturday.

She said bring water and a protein bar. "It's only an hour," I thought, "including warm up and cool down. Does she really think I'll be working that hard? Obviously she doesn't know who she's dealing with."

But I obliged and brought my water and a protein bar that I'd purchased from a beefed up Ahhnold wanna be at GNC. Seriously, $3.19 for a candy bar!

The trainer had given me good directions plus the added, "in the building with Midwest Gymnastics," so in addition to good directions, I also had a landmark. "Great!" I thought, "There is no way I can get lost."

Naturally, I had trouble finding the place. It was a big building with a big parking lot. But I drove right up to the door, next to Midwest Gymnastics, and parked in a "Final Cut Parking Only" parking spot, grabbed my H2O and my purse (with the $3.19 candy bar in it) and got out. Even though I knew the company name was Duell Fitness, I figured this must be it. She hadn't said, after all, "There's another fitness company called Final Cut right next to Midwest Gymnastics but that's not the one. I'm on the opposite side of the building."

The Final Cut doors were locked. I thought that was really stupid because I was only five minutes early. Why would she not have the doors unlocked for me? Annoying.

But then I thought, "OH, of course! Maybe she meant Duell Fitness was in the same building as Midwest Gymnastics."

So I drove down 20 yeards to the Midwest Gymnastics doors and parked, grabbed my H2O and my purse (with the $3.19 candy bar in it) and got out. The doors to Midwest Gymnastics were locked.

This was getting a bit redick. How hard do you think I'm gonna work to spend an hour busting my ass with a personal trainer? Lemme answer that for ya. Not hard. For Pete's sake, open the damn doors! This isn't North Miami! We're in Little Canada . . . Minnesota . . .

But this was free and I do like the Plume Blue peeps (although have never met them personally or had a single solitary date since joining . . . hmmm), so I waited a few more minutes until exactly 2:15 before I decided to leave. I had planned to report back to the authorities immediately that this Duell Fitness thingy is giving Plume Blue a bad name! Oh yes'sir'ee! I had it all planned out.

Just before I pulled out of the parking lot and after having taken a couple bites of my expensive candy bar (because by this time, I felt I was starving to death), I thought I should make a call to Duell Fitness. What if I was in the wrong place all together? What if I had misunderstood something? That wouldn't be good to be a "no show" at a free fitness session. My name could be smeared all over the Plume Blue site as a lame duck, someone who's afraid of commitment or who can't be depended on!! So I made the call.

No answer.

"Good," I thought, "I'm in the clear. I can leave with a clear conscience."

I'd barely driven to the end of the lot when my phone rang. Ugh! It was the trainer -- I was in the right place; just the wrong side of the building . . .

Linda, of Duell Fitness, welcomed me and showed me around. Big place. Lots of stuff. Oh, and there's Midwest Gymnastics, right there. When you're on the inside of the building you can see it. 

She asked me about any injuries so I explained my ongoing shoulder problem and told her about my fractured lateral sesamoid. "And so," I told her, "I don't think running would be good for me."

Lo and behold, she also has a fractured bone in her foot. "I am SO glad you said that!" (about her fractured bone. I'm so dumb.) "No one believes me when I tell them I have a fractured bone in my foot!"

Instant bond. We're besties . . .

Two Issues: Bored and Broke

My friend told me I should write a column, "You're like a female Dave Barry," he said. Of course, I have no idea who the hell that is.

"No," I said, "people might get the wrong idea about me."

He said that people have already figured me out. But I told him he thinks he has everyone figured out (because he's one of "those" kind of people). And I explained that I have two issues: I'm bored and I'm broke.

Then he said I need a good screw.

"Truly," I told him, "I don't think that's it at all. Well, maybe partly. But what would I do with the other 23 hours and 59 minutes of my day? I'd still be bored."