Saturday, January 11, 2003
Dear Diary:

I alternate upper and lower body workouts, so Friday was my first visit to the squat station since Monday, the day said station pulled out the giant, economy size Can o' Whup and spread a thick, even layer over my thighs and buttal region.

That layer of whup persisted right up until Thursday afternoon. Verily, I say unto you I am a humbled woman, a woman who has learned to respect and yea perhaps even fear the squat.

Believe me, I did what I could to avoid the inevitable.

I spent so much time stretching my hamstrings that it looked as if I was preparing for some sort of gymnastics competition.

Monet could have whipped off some minor masterpiece in the time I spent chalking my hands. Eventually, though, I ran out of excuses. It was time to throw my shoulders back, slide the 45 pound bar into place, and push muscle against metal.

Oh yes, a mere 45 pounds.

Monday I had jauntily taken on 75 pounds, 30 pounds more than my previous (and only recently achieved) personal best, because the teenaged boy ahead of me had squatted 65 pounds. In a moment of insane competitiveness I had decided to "take" him by squatting more than he did.

Yep, I think we can all agree that the evidence is overwhelming that I was probably dropped on my head as a child and no one has thought to tell me.

Well, here's the amazing thing. Friday's 45 pounds was relatively easy to do. I kid you not. The three sets of 12 reps weren't a cakewalk--I mean, my heart was beating hard and I was sweating--but I didn't come anywhere near "the wall" that you smack up against hard when you've pushed yourself to the end of your physical endurance.

As you can well imagine, I was feeling pretty darned smug.

For about two minutes.

There is a woman who shows up at my gym from time to time who is gorgeous. I'm sorry, but no other word will do. She's tall, slender, blonde, in her late 20's and when she walks through the door every man within a 30 foot radius sucks in his gut.

I'm lucky I don't die of oxygen deprivation from the guys' rapid intake of breath.

She was there on Friday and went to the squat station after I did. She put a FREAKIN' 45 POUND WEIGHT on each end of the 45 pound bar and then whipped off three sets of 12 reps with less effort than I put into my puny 45 pound lift.

Fine.

I would have hated her guts except for the fact that with that lift she had probably hauled up her body weight, and there are very few men in my gym who can squat their weight. What she had just accomplished impressed the guys even more than it impressed me. The surprised looks on their faces was a wondrous thing to behold.

And while every trainer in every gym in the world can tell you that strength training will not make a woman bulk out and look like The Incredible Hulk, nothing brings that home quite like seeing a woman with soft curves squat the equivalent of her body weight.

This is the image of weightlifting when I was a kidWeight training is one of the things which makes me most keenly feel my age. It has nothing to do with the physical limitations of my body, and everything to do with the images that were fed to me growing up.

Like this one, which comes courtesy of Krista Smash, Women's Weightlifting Links and Lessons and shows a woman doing a squat in perfect hair, a swimsuit AND FREAKING HIGH HEELS. Yup, there were very definite ideas about how to be a woman when I was growing up.

Contrast that with the material in Krista's wonderful site (about which I cannot say enough good things. If you are a woman doing weight training, you want that site in your bookmarks).

Um, yeah, quite a difference in attitude towards physical strength and body image, eh? I continually have these little inner wars between the ideas that were implanted when I was a kid and the ones I hold now. Think Lily Tomlin and Steve Martin duking it out over the one body in "All of Me" and you pretty much have the situation.

I try to ignore the old stuff, but it isn't always easy.

The soundtrack to my last two cardio workouts came thanks to the three CD kindness of 2LW a.k.a. Kiss-A-Frog. I spent a lot of time laughing because she didn't give me a track list and so without warning I found myself running along to things such as Alvin and the Chipmunks doing their Christmas song and The Muppets Show Theme Song.

Sadly, I know the words to both because I owned that Chipmunks record as a child (yes, I am older than dirt) and my daughter and I were addicted to The Muppet Show in the 80's.

Yep, I grew up with children's shows that starred sweet, gentle, self-effacing women such as Shari Lewis and my daughter had the karate chopping Miss Piggy.

Me? Jealous?

You bet.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 20.76 miles - 33.4 kilometers
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers

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Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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