Why I don't teach Math

So after some lunges (which I felt for the very first time - three days in a row will do that, I guess), Paul set me to grinding around on the Lacrosse Ball, even though I repeatedly offered to lift stuff or drag weights around instead.  Although painful, it wasn't as bad as the first time I used the Lacrosse ball: and I was actually able to move my arm with deliberation.
While rolling around on the floor with Paul holding my ribcage down (yeah, try breathing like that sometime), another trainer (I'll call him "Harry") explained to his group of hard-working clients that I actually really, truly, was doing an exercise.  He said, yeah, she is suffering from F***ed Up Shoulder and Paul is helping UnF*** it."
Laughing while someone is compressing your ribcage at the same time that you are waving your arm while a Lacrosse ball is penetrating through your torso has potential as some sort of Las Vegas freak show act.

So now that my shoulders were looser,  Paul said, Ok! The Prowler is all set up for you!  I walked over, actually looking sort of forward to doing something to kick off some serious stress. 

Give yourself to the Dark Side.  In time you'll learn to use it as I have

But it was not the pink prowler.  It was black.  It had large wheels with the number 20 on them.

It was the Darth Vader of prowlers.

So I mentally geared myself up and then shoved.  WTF???  It was heavier than the pink one.
I struggled to get it moving and after turning to head back, I wondered if I could actually do two more runs (ok, I say "run" but I suppose at times it is more like stomping.)


I got through three with effort and felt relieved.  Until I saw Paul turn Darth to face the front again.  He smiled, we're doing four, right?  I smiled back, yes, of course (I would LOVE to, thank you SO much.)


After the fourth trip, he turned it again.  Let's do six, he grinned.  What!?!  I slapped on PF, and thought, fine, ok, so my legs turn to jello; I'll be damned if I get out there and can't get back!  To distract myself as I shoved, I tried to figure out how much I was pushing.  Two 20's are 40 pounds, and then the Prowler must weight like 40 pounds?  During my last breather, Paul got into a discussion of the weight of the machine and then picked up another prowler with one hand and walked it over to the scale.  68 pounds.  I weighed myself just to check the accuracy: 118 pounds.  So I still weighed 10 pounds more than the 108 pounds I was pushing.


I got through the last trip with wobbly legs and a pounding heart (and yet, mysteriously, no sweat!)  Paul seemed pretty proud that I did it, saying, "you pushed 156 pounds!  You couldn't do that two weeks ago!"

Ummmmmmm....

I blinked, "um, no, those were two 20's, it was 108 pounds."

Paul: "uh, 20 KG - that's 44 pounds each."


Me:  


Me:


So, FYI, I can now push a small man out of a burning building.

Next up: Another Field trip to see the celebrated Mr. K!