History of the Weights, Part the First

Summer 1994. My friend J and I joined a gym. Not to "lose weight" but to "get strong," to be "fit."

I am 5'8", and have no concrete idea what I weighed at the time, though I would guesstimate somewhere between 210-225 lbs. J was four inches shorter, and I have even less of a clue what she might have weighed. I know that my clothes were too small for her, and her clothes were two sizes too big for me. I don't remember what prompted our decision. I'm not sure it's even important, at this point.

We decided to join Girly Gym (not it's real name), an adjunct of Macho Gym (also not it's real name), a fully-equipped state-of-the-art workout facility designed exclusively for women. We could go down the long hallway that separated the two gyms and workout in Macho Gym, if we so chose (we never did), but the guys could never come into Girly Gym. Not that they'd want to. The carpet and matting was all pink, the Nautilus machines were pink, and there were of course little pink dumbbells. (There were real dumbbells too . . . though no barbells, now that I'm thinking about it.) As much as the puke-tastic pinkness of Girly Gym bothered J and I, we tacitly agreed that it was worth putting up with to not suffer the snickers and ridicule of being "the fat girls" working out in front of the high school jocks and gang-bangers in Macho Gym. (We assumed that the guys in Macho Gym were jocks and gang-bangers, and we assumed they would make fun of us; since neither of us actually went in there, I don't know that for sure. But I bet we were right.)

We had a single new member orientation session with a personal trainer, let's call her SanDeE*. SanDeE* took J and I through the Nautilus circuit, showing us how to properly use every machine, figuring out the weight we should start with on each. SanDeE* consistantly underestimated our strength. On every machine we'd have to tell her, "Uh yeah, this is way too light." Over and over again. SanDeE* just couldn't believe two fat girls who'd never before seen the inside of a gym could be so strong! Not that she said that. What she said was, "Wow, you guys are strong . . ." with a look that we both interpreted to mean ". . . for a couple of fat cows."

After the circuit, SanDeE* showed us some very basic dumbbell lifts - lateral flys, tricep extentions, curls, incline presses - none of which we needed little pink dumbbells for. Then she pointed at the cardio equipment (treadmills, bikes, Stairmasters.) She suggested we warm up for at least five minutes before lifting, and that if we were going to lift and do cardio on the same day, the lifting should always come first, never second. We were encouraged to do 2 or 3 sets of 10-12 reps; we were encouraged to increase the weight whenever we could do 15 reps easily. She suggested that we workout 3 times a week, focusing on a different muscle group each visit; chest and back one day, legs the next, shoulders and arms the next. And so forth. And that was it. SanDeE* turned us loose.

(I don't recall another staff member ever speaking to either of us again. Not that we wanted them to. I'm sure if we had questions or something, we certainly could have asked. I also don't really remember any other fat women working out there.)

For a while, J and I went to Girly Gym together 2 or 3 times a week. Then she stopped going as often. After a while, she stopped going altogether. I kept it up though. I liked the exercise, I liked sweating and the endorphin rush, I loved lifting the weights, feeling my muscles work, feeling strong and sore and active and alive. I loved pressing almost the entire stack (150 lbs, if I remember correctly) on the delt press machine and having the woman working the circuit behind me go, "Whoa," with a mixture of awe and envy.

Okay, so maybe I imagined the envy part. But it still felt pretty darn cool.

I didn't have any set "routine," I wasn't rigidly following any sort of "program." I didn't like the bicep and tricep Nautilus machines, and the only dumbbell manuevers I knew to target those muscles were plain ole curls and overhead extentions. I didn't really like the leg curl and calf raise machines either, but SanDeE* hadn't shown us any leg-targeting lifts with freeweights (which strikes me now as a gross oversight), so I worked my hamstrings and calves on the machines half-heartedly. Knowing what I know now, I would characterize the lifting I did back then as ameturish. My enthusiasm was high, and I was a stickler for proper form, but I really didn't know much of anything beyond the very basics. I didn't know that I could lift differently for hypertrophy, for strength, for endurance. I had no idea what a drop set or a pyramid or a superset was, I didn't know about periodization or volume. I didn't keep a log.

I didn't change the way I ate, or pay any particular attention to nutrition. I think I made sure to eat before going to the gym, and I was always hungry after. But I was not counting or watching or rationing or portioning anything. I lost some weight anyways, of course. Not a lot. I remember getting on the scale at some point the following spring and seeing 198 lbs. I stepped on again a few weeks later. Still 198 lbs. I figured that was my "normalized" weight, the place my body just naturally wanted to be. And it was okay. I was reasonably fit, and I felt good, so who cared what the scale said?

Summer 1995, I transferred to a four year college and moved 2000 miles away from my entire family and all my friends. I didn't pick up a dumbbell again for 3 and a half years.

Part the Second to follow.