Life of the Lintee Bean

My personal trainer is breaking up with me.  The sadness I feel can only be compared to the disappointment when that guy you’ve been really excited about starts the conversation with “I don’t think I feel the same way about you….” This is a sorrow that can only be handled one way… with chocolate and whining.  Thus, I sit here drinking hot cocoa and blogging.

My trainer, Ron, is moving back to Wisconsin. I understand, and I’m happy for him.  He’ll be closer to his family and it sounds like a great job.  But, I’ll miss him.  He’s made of muscles and awesome and working out with him was often downright fun.  At its worst, it was still really close to fun if there wasn’t so much sweating and exhaustion involved.

I set myself up for the fall, I suppose.  I’d grown increasingly attached to Ron.  I’d even caught myself being jealous of his other clients.  I’d see him working with someone else, and scrutinize his other client.  I’d tell myself I was probably more fun than that client…. or could lift more than that client… or could just “take them” in a fight.

I’ll always have fond memories of our time together.

• Ron showing me how to do “good mornings”.
• Ron catching me as I fall off the Gravitron or “jungle gym”.
• Crushing Ron’s finger with my foot when he held out my resistance band for me to use for an assisted pull-up.
• Playing tug-of-war while doing side planks.
• Ron’s biceps and pecs and whatnot flexing while illustrating front squat technique.
• Almost… ALMOST convincing Ron to attempt ninja tuck jumps.
• Ron’s many facial expressions – “perplexed”, “pleased”, “concerned”, “oh my, what are you DOING?”
• Ron calling out the steps of an exercise… never seeming to lose faith that I could handle an exercise involving many steps, despite my continued illustration that I cannot do these… “up on your hands… pull dumbbell through… no other way…. okay, down to a plank… up on your hands… pull… no, up on your hands… okay, pull dumbbell through… other hand… no, other way…. okay, down into a plank….”
• Ron realizing I cannot jump.  I’m not exaggerating.  My body loves gravity, I cannot jump.
• That moment when I went from the “client that MAY be convinced to do five push-ups but she will whine about them being hard” to the “client that is insane and is doing 100 or more push-ups in a day because of some challenge.”
• Those times I tried something… to see what would happen… and often what would happen is my trainer would have to lift a heavy thing off of me, or pull me out of a very low lunge or squat position, or otherwise “save” me.  I like to think he enjoyed these times too, they kept things “interesting”.  Wouldn’t want him to get bored.

So, Ron isn’t the only trainer at my gym… but as far as I’m concerned, he’s the BEST trainer.  I’ll be set up with someone new… and different.  I’ll have to teach them the “ways of the Lintee bean” and that I do not jump and I sweat and I curse and I try to lift things that are too heavy… and I’m not looking forward to it.  I’m happy for Ron and the opportunity presented to him… but I’ll miss him.

“No! Don’t leave me!” :clutches at trainer’s leg:

Edited to add: In the email I received from Ron, he did say “You are the toughest person I have to tell.” Hear that? I am his TOUGHEST client! I wonder if he was just afraid I’d fly into a homicidal rage. He wasn’t at the gym the day I punched the treadmill and called it a very very bad word. He may have heard about it, though.