My sports doctor is a good guy. Instead of washing his hands of me and saying I’m just too accident and injury prone to keep working out, he wants to help me find things that will challenge me. (I guess if I were cynical I’d just think my insurance company has probably paid for, I don’t know, at least a few mortgage payments for him. But when he waved my inches thick file at me and said he wants it to not be any bigger 20 years from now, I’m gonna go with he’s actually a good guy.)
I’ve completed my post-rhabdo sentence of boring elliptical work which I served at the nearby public gym where my punishment included watching dudes massacre proper form on lifts and young ladies perform perplexing movements with tiny weights. I got my doctor’s all clear to go back to working out just a few days before leaving for Italy. I wasn’t ABOUT to risk getting hurt before that trip so I went pretty gingerly back into upper body workouts. But I wanted to really get back to work when I came back from Italy, and I’d be on my own. (Clearly personal trainers and I are not a good match.)
“Try a TRX,” my doctor suggested. Hmm. I tried one when I was doing physical therapy during the Injury Chronicles Part I and remember being surprised at how challenging it was. “It’s your bodyweight, so you shouldn’t be able to hurt yourself,” he said. Ah, so that was the selling point. After all the things he’s told me I *can’t* do, it’s nice to have the seal of approval for a change, so I went right out to get one. And actually the TRX folks were kind enough to provide me with one. It arrived while I was stuffing my face with pasta and pizza and gelato in Italy.
I have stopped feeling guilty about not working out when I travel. I just don’t, and that’s ok. Which is weird because I would have given almost anything just to do some push-ups from Jan 1 through mid March, I finally got the go-ahead, but once I was in Italy I couldn’t care less (although I was amused by the Italians who wanted to feel my bicep, so I guess I didn’t wither away like I feared I would).
Anyway, I came back with a hard-earned pasta belly and a raring urge to get into my garage gym and just do some hard stuff. I wasn’t sure, despite my little bit of previous experience, how hard a couple of straps would actually be. Then I did a test that came in the packaging. And oh. my goodness. It’s hard all right. I noted my results (max reps in one minute) for each of these and will check again in 30 days: Chest press 16, biceps curl 17, hamstring curl 24, crunch 28.
I like that I have no idea what constitutes a good result. It doesn’t matter. Improvement matters. Sitting in a hospital, looking at an MRI of my damaged muscles and discussing necrotic tissue with my doctor put quite the damper on my desire to compete or break any more arbitrary records. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about meeting challenges. So my first challenge is just to beat those numbers after 30 days. I’ll let you know.