He's not just the "work-your-butt-off" president, he's also a client

Week 5 Trainer: Fabian
Location: North Ridge Rapid Fitness
Sessions: 4 (M/T/TH/F)


   It's been difficult for me to write my week 5 training summary because it was such a cool, eye-opening week and I wanted to give it justice.  Then I got anxiety about giving it justice and that led to a nap. . . . or 7.  But I'm not allowing myself to read Perezhilton.com until I finish, and I think I'm starting to get the shakes from withdrawal. So let's get to it, before I get all Whitney Houston on everyone.  Crack is Whack! Do you hear what I'm sayin', Diane? (Ok, wait - do you think she'll come after me one day for that? Sorry Whitney! I come in peace!)

  My week 5 trainer was Fabian.  Fabian is a fun, easy going guy who could easily give up personal training for a career as a professional model.  Seriously, this guy was made for the pages of GQ (if any talent scouts out there get any bright ideas after reading this, I want a finders fee!).  He is a competitive track and field star, originally from Barbados, who has trained alongside the world's best. His style is to train EVERYONE like an athlete.  If week 4 was my week to feel like GI Jane, week 5 was my week to feel like a collegiate or pro-athlete.  Which is a pretty awesome feeling for someone who was picked last for every P.E. activity since the great "You-can't-hunt-for-lady-bugs-in-the-middle-of-a-kickball- game!" debacle of 1985. By the way, I wasn't looking for lady bugs! I don't do bugs of any kind.  I was looking for four-leaf clovers, thank you very much. So there.

  Fabian started every session by asking how I was feeling emotionally and physically.  Should I bring up that I'm still a little down in the dumps about the fact that I will no longer be able to get my weekly fill of Dr. Jack Shepard and Hurley-isms on LOST ?  Probably not.  Most of his workouts utilized the medicine ball, the elastic bands and the kettle ball.  Even though I'm 5 trainers and over 10 training sessions in, Fabian did exercises that I've never seen before.  I couldn't help but wonder if somewhere Kobe, Brett Favre, and LeBron were doing the same exercises or if they were just taking a bath in all of their money a la Scrooge McDuck.

  When the burn kicked in from all of the insane core work (Insane, I tell you! IN-SANE!!), I tried to imagine myself as a female track star who can bend over in a sports bra without being afraid that someone will be  poke you in the gut and command, "Giggle!"  like you're the Pillsbury freakin' Dough Boy (that fear has kept me from the pool all summer).

  On day 2, when Fabian asked me how I was feeling, I complained of a little quad soreness (perhaps due to the 100 squats and lunges we did on day 1! I'd like to see you do all that Shaq!).  "Oh we can work on that!" he said and changed my workout right then and there.  Next thing I know, I'm doing these exercises with the medicine ball that really should be accompanied by someone whistling Sweet Georgia Brown! It was an exercise that was equal parts stretch and burn (kinda like yoga but with a medicine ball).  I was having so much fun pretending to be a Harlem Globetrotter and all the shenanigans I would get into on Gilligan's Island or Scooby-doo with the rest of the team, I barely noticed that the strain in my legs was gone and that I was sweating like a pig. Seriously Lady Mitchum Deodorant?? Epic FAIL!!!!

   Not only that, but when he put me on the tredmill afterwards, my stride was longer and bore a close resemblance to (Dare I say it?) the stride of a REAL athlete.  Allow me to be more specific with the word "athlete" since I recently learned that competitive eaters call themselves "athletes".  I mean people who sweat for their sport, not burp. That said. . . . Team Takeru Kobayashi!!! He's going to wipe the floor with you at next years hot dog eating contest, Joey "the Jaws" Chestnut!

  By session 4, I thought I was hot stuff. I am woman. . . hear me roar!!! Um . . . wrong. Apparently sessions 1-3 were just a warm-up for #4.  Fridays with Fabian. Seriously, I might just be ready for the Olympic trials after this. It was THAT hard.  I can't even think of a witty analogy to express exactly how hard this session was!! Let me put it like this: If you work out with Fabian on a Friday, don't worry about being tempted to indulge in beer or wine over the weekend, because you won't be able to lift your arms high enough to get the glass to your mouth.  Seriously! Sidenote: Guess who has two thumbs and did THREE sets of pull-ups! THIS GIRL!!!!

   One thing to note about Fabian. After he trains his clients in the afternoon (and works as a strength and conditioning coach to a local football or basketball team in the morning) he puts himself through the same rigorous workout as his clients.  There have been many late nights when aside from myself and James Bond (what? you don't bring your dog to work with you?), Fabian is one of the last to leave. He's not just the "work-your-butt-off" president, he's also a client.

  He studies the human body not just because it's his job as a trainer but because as an athlete, when the difference between first and last place is a fraction of a second, how you train can make all the difference. And I get to reap the benefits of all the knowledge he's accumulated over years of training! Woo-hoo! 

   I've been thinking back on how much money and time I've wasted spent on buying drinks ("like Mike, if I could be like Mike! I wanna be, I wanna be like Mike"), clothes (don't get me started on how I begged for a "Bo Knows" shirt), shoes, even watching cartoons (ProStars starring Mike, Wayne and Bo. You know you watched it too so shut it) that featured my favorite athletes in efforts to absorb their abilities and be more like them: faster, stronger . . . . better.  Did it work? ummmm, no.  Like I said, this girl was picked last (even after the class nose picker) in P.E. class games.  But now, I have the tools to really train like them.  I dare you to pick me last for kickball now, suckas!

   NOW I'm going to read me some perezhilton.com.  I don't think I've ever gone this long without my celebrity gossip.  I think I have the cold sweats.