Will I Ever Get It

Every time I convince myself of significant progress in my “quest” for health, vigor and new strength, every time I become a little too full of myself; there is Sparta.
An example.
A few Blogs ago, I wrote of weights, reps, speed; I was self-satisfied.
Being self satisfied is dangerous; it is like believing your own “press releases”.
It is OK to have “press releases” just don’t accept them as “true”.
Never put in writing, what may come back to haunt you.
Best of all worlds; let someone else write about your achievements.
This past Saturday, Boot Camp, followed by training.
The first machine, the reclining bench press; a machine to help build chest muscles.
Sparta readies the machine and loads up a small amount of weight; do the standard number of reps, wait a few minutes, more weight, again a specified number of reps but with a twist, “don’t do them so fast, slow the tempo”.
"This is different; it is a more difficult", I say, Sparta explains, “The momentum factor is gone, now it is all you”.
Finished, sweating some, more weight piles on, the magic 180, “now do slow reps”.
Sparta gets ready to assist. She never does this unless asked or she anticipates failure or possible injury.
No surprise, she helps me finish.
Next drop sets, again slowly and with each set I can feel the arms turning to soggy pasta, not even al dente.
It is like this at each station, light weights, slow motion movements and critiques of my technique.
Each little addition brings sensations of new muscles being recruited and old scars being pulled into action.
“Feeling anything different”?
“Yes” I say matter-of-factly, “I do believe this might pull my incision line apart; the next thing you could see is a live beating heart, mine”.
Concern appears to register until I start laughing, but truthfully I can actually feel the attachments on the sternum coming into play.
They fatigue quickly.
The last machine, the last set, "21", she says; more laughing followed by 21 with mainly Sparta doing the most work.
I know I am going to be sore in a few hours, for a few days and have a badly bruised “ego”.
The best remedy for that, pain relievers and another big piece of “Mom’s own Humble Pie”.
Luckily my wife knows me well enough to keep a large supply of that on hand.