The Woes of a "Workout Noob" Part 2

Oh yeah. There's a Part Dos. Are you ready for this?

Shit is about to get real. (Just kidding. Maybe.)

This is basically "The Woes of a Workout Noob Getting Schooled by a Workout Pro."

So I, the workout noob in question, received the great privilege to tag along with an experienced workout... dude... and learn from his techniques.

I think I was somewhat wrong when I thought that was a great idea. I knew I had misgivings for a reason.

So when I initially noob-ed around alone, at least no one was actually watching me. I could tell myself that it was just me feeling embarrassed for myself, and no one was judging me because you know, people have better things to do. Like do their own workouts.

However, accompanied by someone who was specifically meant to show me the ropes, I pretty much had no choice but to be watched, and bear that burn of a superior's gaze.

Oh, the self-consciousness that ensued.

And when that fellow demonstrated certain techniques, I mean... I had to watch in order to understand, right? But that was so weird because I was basically just staring at his muscles! And I just felt very... invasive. I felt like I was ogling blatantly or something! Like... do I stare directly at them? Do I watch the weight? How often do I look back and forth? Or should I watch from the mirror's reflection? (What's wrong with my brain?!)

And when a friend of said fellow's showed up and for some reason decided to sit and chill for a while near where we were working out, I flubbed the forearm curl thing whatevers (I'm not going to pretend I know all the terminology)... yeah, I saw that smirk. (I see you! I know you're judging me! I know you're laughing!)

Then there were these insidious thoughts that cropped up, like "Oh, I bet these people are thinking, 'That girl is such a noob. That poor guy, trying to teach her how to lift–are those five-pound weights??!!"

(Yes, my consciousness works against me most of the time.)

Obviously, when working out with a higher-up, my awareness of my weakness increased tenfold. Like at one point, during the isolation curls (I don't know what it's actually called; please don't make me try harder than I have to), Mr. Workout Pro tried to make me go up a weight thing (also don't know what the proper terminology is), and ummm.

Yeah that didn't go well. I could not lift the stuff (I'm so articulate). It was sad.

But wait! Don't you run off thinking that I am ungrateful and self-pitying (I mean I am the latter, but whatever)!

There are great things that come with a personal trainer-type buddy. Now I know what that triangular seat thing is, and now I know where some of the weights are! I know where the towels are (yay) and in a sense, I, oddly enough, feel less stupid in some aspects when exercising. One noob makes a workout session a chore, essentially; two noobs make the escapade hilarious and mutually embarrassing so that the humiliation sort of gets cancelled out in the process (and turned into a joke); but one noob and one pro make for an informative and somewhat reassuring experience. It might seem paradoxical in context with my crippling insecurity showcased above, but it's overall a lot better to work out with a Workout Pro than alone.

Indeed it's embarrassing having someone witness the absolute degradation of my alarming weakness, but it's also pretty cool to work out side by side with someone who clearly knows what the heck he's doing.

The Woes of a "Workout Noob"

I am what one might call a "workout noob." Put me in a gym setting and my heart rate will take off, but not for the conventional reasons...

I'll get that burst of adrenaline from pure panic. Because I have no idea what to do when put in a workout environment.

Starting from last night, I had a sudden rush of inspiration to "get in shape." Oh, ha ha, naive little me, thinking that I can suddenly get pumped and know exactly what to do without any outside help. It's simple enough to do ab workouts from the comfort of one's dorm (not even with a proper mat, but on a slip-and-slide rug that was deemed "eh, good enough"), but a Rec Center with actual equipment and athletes?

Oh. My. Gosh.

I walked into the gym all chipper and ready to do my fancy little Blogilates arm workout, and then realized I didn't actually know where any of the equipment was. About 98% of the contraptions absolutely confounded me. I walked in a dazed, confused half-circle before deciding I needed a quick bathroom reprieve; I had panicked so hard that my bladder was in need of relief.

I almost left the gym.

Yeah, it took 15 minutes to walk there, and I nearly turned right back around to waste a total half hour of my day. That's how confused I was.

But nope, I had to come away with something (jiggly arms BEGONE!). So, I marched back into that cardio/weight room and focused my vision with all the strength I could muster, and eventually zeroed in on the dumbbells! I never thought I'd be so happy to see those stupid weights...

I worked out for 20 minutes. Wow. Go me. And it was so awkward. I wasn't sure where exactly I was supposed to stand, so I just faced the window with my iPhone on the window seat thing, Blogilates video playing. I imagine I looked very much like a workout noob indeed.

Good thing I didn't recognize anyone.

And I felt like when I left, all the people who were there when I first arrived were still in full workout mode. What's wrong with them?! How do people get so fit in the first place?? Where do they find the strength and willpower??

Oh man. Walking back, my arms felt weird. I had my water bottle and keys firmly tucked under my left arm, and so my right arm was awkwardly unoccupied. It was like, bouncing against my side with each step I took. At one point, I looked at my shadow and saw this weird... orangutan arm motion going on.

It was sad. I felt like a wiggly waggly inflatable man.

Oh well. At least I have super cute sports bras! (Spoken like a true workout noob, am I right?)