It's Monday.
You probably assume I'm saying that begrudgingly as the work week returns. If it were another Monday I might be, but today is different. Today is a holiday. Oh yeah, and so was last Monday. I kind of like this 4-day-week/3-day-weekend cycle. It's a nice way to wrap up the school year. I should probably take advantage of the morning and hit the gym, but I'm just not feeling it. Lazy, perhaps? To my defense, I'll claim it's motivation to do a million other things.
The most recent? Wiping up black kitty paw prints from the white floors in every room. I like the idea of painting. Ami likes the idea of walking in black paint. I'm not really painting per-say, just stenciling a quote on a piece of Styrofoam I had glued piano sheet music to. I'm not in love with it and might not even hang it up, but there is something about creating that brings peace and joy. Peace and joy...I force it to resonate as I clean up my kitten's mess.
But back to my first though, I should probably be at the gym. I bought a gym membership a few weeks ago and I've been pretty pleased with the decision. The sometimes awkward, always entertaining place to work on my fitness. It's a quick 6 minute jaunt from my apartment and has everything I thought I'd like. What I wanted in a gym? An elliptical. Yeah, that's it. I had gotten in the habit of running a few times a week but then jacked up my knee. Replacement cardio of choice: the elliptical. Grab my kindle, 30 minutes, wa-bam. Done. That's all I wanted.
That is until Mario got a hold of me. Mario is one of the trainers at the gym. He likes to try to speak English and isn't intimidated that my Spanish is bumpy. One of the trainers. One of about 6 who are always in an out. The main floor of the gym is on the second floor of the building. From the moment you step foot on the floor one of the trainers jumps you. What do you want to do today? What can I help you with? How's everything going? How are you feeling? Woah. Stimulus overload. I just want to go on the elliptical. I just want to get some cardio in. Dang. I should have looked up some gym terminology. I point to the elliptical and off the trainer takes me. He pushes all the buttons, waits for me to get on, and then I'm set to go. Really? I'm incapable of doing it that myself? At gyms in the states I'd just mess with all the settings until I found something I liked. Here I don't have to worry about it. Muscular trainers to the rescue!
So Mario. The first time I met him he asked me what I wanted from the gym. I was honest and just told him I'd like to do some cardio. He looked at me in disbelief. Really? We have all these machines and you just want to do cardio. Yes? My resolve deteriorating and his gently pressing make me want to do more. But, I stick to what I know: elliptical please. He takes me there, sets me up for 25 minutes and then leaves me to sweat to death. The time passes quickly and soon I'm done. As I slow down and dismount the machine Mario approaches me, "Why don't you give me 20 minutes on the bike?" I guess it wouldn't kill me, so I jump on. My legs get moving, I pick up my book and off I go. After about 10 minutes Mario is at my side and tells me to stand up on the bike. I'm really good at following directions, so up I go. Wow. That position increased my heart rate at least 50%. I finished the time on the bike with Mario standing next to me. Sweat. Sweat. Sweat. I'm ready to go home.
But, he's not yet. Seriously bro? He takes me through a circuit working my arm strength, sends me to the bike for 4 minutes, and tells me to do the circuit another 2 times with the bike in between. On the inside: can I just go home? On the outside: Bring it on. I love challenge. So I complete what he tells me and light on my feet I saunter over to him feeling accomplished. Dang girl. I've never been one to do the machines. I assume Mario is going to tell me good work and send me home. Wrong. His thoughts: how about some ab work. Sure. Why not? When a muscular trainer with a joyful demeanor asks you do do something, it's hard to resist (no matter how tired you are). So he sets me up and leaves me to finish on my own. At this point my arms are burning, my abs are burning and I'm just burned out. As I'm reaching the last 10 penguin ab moves (...definitely not what they're called, but that's all I can think of when I'm doing them, haha) Mario comes back with a smile. Lista? (Ready?) I return the smile and acquiesce, sí, señor. I'm tired. There's that smile again, "Good work, why don't you stretch and we'll call it a day." Relief sweeps over me. Certainly, I'd love to.
Mario is great. He pushes me hard. But perhaps that's the reason I'm sitting here on my balcony enjoying the view of the city instead of dying at the gym.
There is so many note worthy things about Sante Bleu. Mario is one of them. More? Water fountains, women's attire, and schedules. I'll save those for another post as I'm off to find something else to captivate my attention for a while.
