Visiting the Sadist

If you're new to my blog, you may not know who I'm referring to, when I say "the Sadist".  She is my personal fitness trainer.  And I call her that to her face, so I don't feel guilty using that as her pseudonym here, on my blog.  She laughs...then tells me to do something more that makes me cry.  It's all equal.  Right?

I thought I'd take you on a quick tour of her in-her-home gym.  Yes, I work out in her house (or her back yard or her driveway and street, or in the library parking lot next door... she likes variety).   In this first picture, I am standing at one end of her basement, taking a photo of the other half.  Conveniently, as I was extremely sweating and in much pain at this point in time, I am missing from the photo, even as a reflection in the mirrors.  I'm crafty that way.  The beautiful gal in the red shirt sitting on the bench is... THE SADIST. 

She is scheduling our next beating work out.

There is a gal reflected in the mirror there.  That's my friend, and work out partner... whom I will refer to as The Bride, as she recently got engaged (wedding date October 2012).  We are good partners for each other because she pushes me with plyometrics and aerobic activities, and I push her with weights (see that "weight tree" at the end of the room?) because I lift heavier weights that she does, typically.

To the right is a doorway next to The Sadist where her punching bag and boxing gear lives.  Trust me, it's alive.  Hidden away in the closet straight ahead are several balance balls, medicine balls and elastic bands used for resistance training.  Probably jump ropes are in there too, and I think there's a weighted hula hoop.  The items hanging on the wall inside of the closet are medals.  The Sadist is an accomplished runner and competes in many half marathons and recently enjoys doing Hell Runs.

But I digress...

In the next photo, below, you'll see a better shot of The Bride and more of the torture devices located in the Sadist's basement.

Just when you start thinking you're used to all of her torture devices (aka fitness equipment), she wanders off and acquires something new... and more tortuous than what you experienced before. I wanted to introduce you to "someone" special, who resides over at the Sadist's house.  I lovingly call it my nemesis.  The Sadist acquired my nemesis early on in my relationship with her.  From the beginning, I simply thought it was the most frightening thing I've ever seen:

I hated it on sight. 

I can't begin to describe to you the mortification I felt the first time I tried to do any of the moves on this... this... piece of pure evil!  Or the second time... the third.  Very recently, I was able to "conquer" a piece of this infernal contraption.  I was recently actually able to get my knees on the seat (a massive feat in and of itself when you're as short as I am) and, grabbing the topmost handles, do a few pull ups. 

Wait!  Don't get too excited... I was not able to pull myself all the way up (picture a grade school chin-up and me not succeeding at that).  I was however, able to pull my weight up enough so that it wasn't completely supported by the "seat" of the vile thing.

On that day, I promised myself that someday...someday... IT would be scared of ME!

Looking at these photos, it all looks so TAME down there.  But it isn't.  It SO isn't!  And yet, like the Energizer Bunny, I keep going, and going, and going... (yay me!)

I have so much more to tell you in so many areas of my world, including the "conclusion" of my 21-day eating plan... but fall is here, which means that my life just got exponentially busier (why?!  I want to enjoy fall!)... but, I'm working out a plan of attack so nothing gets lost in my shuffle!