38 FEBRUARY 2012

CheckIn
THERES ALWAYS A STACK of tness-
focused magazines next to my bed. I read
each one for dierent reasons, but the
parts I save are the same: I keep a folder
full of articles explaining exercises that
will presumably lead me to hard-bodied
bliss. Yes, I have the resources on le to
resize my thighs, blast my belly and rm
my butt in 30 minutes or less. Yet thats
exactly where that wealth of wisdom
remainsin a folder, totally untouched.
A few months ago I smack-talked
a storm about my condence heading
into the belly-baring Kona Undie Run.
I claimed Id logged hundreds upon
hundreds of crunches. Well forgive me
friends, but I exaggerate sometimes. In
truth, my abs remained weak. Wobbly
even. In fact, after a years absence from
any triathlon start line, and having let my
tness lag uncharacteristically, my entire
body was due for a serious tone-up.
I have a mild phobia of gym sessions,
however. Maybe you can relate. I doubt
Im the only endurance athlete lacking
solid knowledge of strength training. With
all the swimming, cycling and running,
who has time to pump to perfection? Id
been using the same few machines for
yearsan unchanged and uninspired
AB-SOLUTE POTENTIAL
CONFESSIONS OF AN AGEGROUPER
By Holly Bennett
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routineand I knew I needed to mix it up.
Yet I was oddly shy about asking for guid-
ance, embarrassed to admit my naivet,
especially in my gyms shbowl-fashioned
environs where every awkward squat
and thrust is on public display. I longed to
improve my core strength and muscle bal-
ance, but as an accomplished triathlete, I
felt I should already have a handle on the
know-how.
But a year into feeling kind of abby, I
was out of excuses. It was time to uncover
my absent abdominals, along with other
bits of buness buried beneath my bulk.
And so I challenged myself thusly: I cor-
nered the kindest-seeming trainer at the
gym, made him promise not to laugh at
my ineptitude and signed up for a six-pack
series of appointments.
My personal trainer took me on a
lunging, squatting and ankle-band-bound
walking tour up and down the exercise
oor. He taught me to twist, pull, press,
lift, V-up and plank in every possible
direction. Our precious six hours together
were a blur of trial-and-error testing and
increasingly hard eort as I attempted to
rein my rapidly accruing knowledge into
some semblance of a repeatable routine.
And yet, while I learned numerous fresh
new moves, I never really felt I had busted
a move. I did come to love those gym
sessions, but they lacked the same deep,
sweat-drenched satisfaction that I glean
from a hard ride or run.
But some gratication is instant; other
benets build slowly. A few mornings
after my nal date with my trainer, I
lounged in bed, hazy with sleep, ignoring
the alarm that prompted me to perk
up and head to the gym. I rolled over to
reposition my warm, cozy self deeper
under the covers. My arm brushed against
something hard. Right there, between my
rib and my hipbone. Either some stranger
with a better body than mine had snuck
into my bed, or I had actually developed a
rather rm oblique. On closer inspection, I
found its matching pair on my other side.
Sure enough, it was a stomach I didnt
immediately recognize, but it was mine,
all mine.
Im excited to see where this focus
on rming and toning takes me. I dont
wish to be overly ripped, but a few more
well-dened muscle bers wouldnt be a
bad thing. More importantly, I know that
better strength and balance will improve
my swim-bike-run performancenot to
mention the t of my skinny jeans.