I have been on a long term exercise in losing weight and getting fit enough to survive my " golden years" for the past several years and for the most part I have been successful.
During many long hours at the gym, panting, heaving and sweating on various pieces of equipment, I have made acquaintance with or at least become familiar with many of the other regulars. Some I know well enough to call by name and have converstions with, others I know by a nod of the head, a rolling of eyes or a brief wave from behind the shelter of an iPod or Mp3 player daze.
The other day, one of these acquaintances, a young girl who quietly comes in, does her time on the precor machine without ever talking with anyone came over to me and said she had been watching me for about a year and that I had lost a lot of weight. I thanked her and as she turned to walk away, she said "in fact, you look like a model."
After I picked myself up off the floor and remounted my precor, I thanked her and continued on with my warm up while feeling higher than a kite and very victorious.
That was the alpha moment which was shortly followed up by the omega moment.
I started a work out with the current trainer Taylor, the guy who knows where every none biking muscle is and how to make me use them and my core muscles until they hurt. In the process of the workout, we did full pushups. As I sweated and dropped my head down at the top of the last push up, I happened to glnce down the neck of my shirt which was hanging loosely open. Looking down through my shirt towards my feet, I saw my sports bra and then two long loosely hanging folds of fat, wobbling with the force of my exertion.
Taylor couldn't understand why I collapsed face first to the floor laughing hysterically.
Just when you're feeling chuffed with your progress and a bit full of yourself, the omega moment comes and slaps you up side the head.
Poor Taylor never did get the joke.
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