Carolina Days: Yesterday's Half Truths Part 5

That's exactly what a fitness plan is, a lifestyle change. Lindsay works at a computer and she met my sister through a website, so it's safe to a.s.sume she spends a lot of time off the clock sitting in front of her computer as well. Her diet wasn't the worst I've seen; but given her level of activity, it wasn't doing her any favors either.

That s.h.i.t with her cat and Loki was hysterical though. The memory of it alone causes an outburst of laughter from me, scaring a guy walking past me. Grimacing, I glance back at him; I hadn't meant to startle him. Mental note; put Loki in my room and shut the door before our next session.

The first sessions with a new client are always the most stressful. If anything, I'm a perfectionist, in a laid-back way. The only person I stress out is myself. I take pride in what I do and work hard to do a good job. With any luck, the work and effort I put into Lindsey's plan will be the first step in a life change for her.

That's heavy stuff right there. I know some trainers who couldn't give a c.r.a.p. Leaning against a pole while I wait for the signal to cross, I stretch my calves as I think of some of the trainers I've run into over the years. There are guys who train just to get laid. They are blessed with great metabolism, and they've taken the time to bulk up, so they look the part.

Once the light changes, I'm off. Running helps me think. I formulate plans for each of my clients based on whom I trained that day. Without taking the time to recognize not everybody behaves the same way, those trainers blame their clients when they don't see results. That right there is pure laziness. When you take a client on you make a commitment to help them achieve their personal fitness goals. Their goal becomes your goal.

Someone famous said it takes twenty-one days to form a habit. I read somewhere it's actually sixty-six days so that's what I use. I have sixty-six days to cram as much good as I can into my clients' well-beings. If at the end of sixty-six days, they are still struggling and not moving forward toward their goal, then I have failed them somewhere along the way.

People hire a trainer to have a knowledgeable person there to motivate them. Motivation is the key. If people who struggle with making healthy life choices were self-motivated, there would be less of a reason to hire me. I'm a paid by the hour cheerleader.

I'll email Lindsay tomorrow and see how she's feeling. That's about all I can do at this point. Once I finish my loop and am back in my apartment, I call Sasha.

She answers on the second ring. "Hey, Luke."

"Hey, Sash, how are you?"

"Well." She pauses. "I went out on a date with this guy I work with."

"Do I want to hear this?" I ask, stopping her.

She laughs, snorting. "Nothing happened; and if it did, I wouldn't tell you. Gross."

"Just making sure. So, this guy, he treat you right?"

She groans. "Yes, he was a perfect gentleman, almost too much of one actually."

"What does that mean?" I snap.

"I want to date a guy who is really into me; he didn't seem like that. I love the idea of a gentleman, but I'd still like him to show me I'm the only thing he can think about."

"Was this a first date?"

She pauses. "We've hung out a couple of times for happy hour, but this was our first official date."

"Not sure what to tell you, baby girl; maybe he's just trying to get to know you better first before he comes on too strong. Gotta be honest. I like that, means he's treating my baby sister with respect."

"I suppose that makes sense," she grumbles.

"I had my first session with your friend, Lindsay," I say, changing the subject.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Sasha gushes.

"I try not to perv on my client's, Sash."

She laughs but doesn't push it any further, thankfully. I'm not the type of guy to gossip about my clients, even if someone I know is friends with them. It's about respect.

"Are you going to keep training her?"

I tilt my nose toward my pit; seriously, should have showered before I called her. "As long as she doesn't fire me I will, but hey, I gotta jet. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Luke." I can hear her smile right through the phone.

We've always been close, and make it a point to see each other or talk at least once a week. She loves stopping by the gym to check out the other trainers. They are all on firm orders to steer clear of her. I'd have to kick some serious a.s.s, if one of those tools tried to date my baby sister.

I'm a bit overprotective when it comes to her. After my dad abandoned us, I was the man of the house for my sisters and my mom. It was a job I took seriously, and I still do. I can't take all the credit but she's grown up nicely, doing great in high school and also getting a good job. There're a lot of girls I know from high school who can't say the same thing. She goes to college part time now. I know she wants to go places with her life.

My mom and I are both proud of her. I know she wants a boyfriend, and for some stupid girl reason, thinks her life is incomplete because she doesn't have one. Loki lifts his head from his dog bed as I pa.s.s him on the way to the shower.

"Lazy b.u.m," I joke. "We're still going for a long walk before bed."

He lowers his head and groans; sometimes I swear it's as if he knows what I'm saying. Once I'm in the shower, I start thinking about relationships again. Being single rocks. I date. I haven't met anyone recently I've considered dating long term, but I still have fun going out.

I've been working more than usual; maybe that's what I need, a night out. My mom and Sasha would love it if I met a girl and settled down. Long term I'm all over that. I'm not in any rush though. My friend, Clay, just got married and he's older than I am. Thinking of Clay, I remember we have plans tomorrow night.

After my shower, I make dinner. I should have asked Sasha what she was doing tonight. If I had, maybe I wouldn't be eating by myself. It's never bothered me before. I don't even know why I'm giving it so much thought right now. After dinner, I decide to chill out.

Flicking on the TV, I go to ESPN; as long as it isn't golf, I can watch any sport. Thankfully, it's boxing. I've sparred a bit in the gym but never been interested in boxing or MMA for more than something fun to watch. My mom would kill me if I ever picked up a vice that could end with my nose being broken. I don't have any hidden anger issues I need to work out on someone's face, so she's safe there.

It's fun to watch though, and the booming voice of the announcer somehow makes me feel less alone. On the first commercial break, I grab my laptop and decide to email Lindsay now instead of waiting until tomorrow.

Lindsay, How are you feeling post workout? You may be sore. That's normal and will get better with each session we have. Let me know if you have any concerns. Unless I hear otherwise, I'm still set for another session with you on Thursday at 4:30.

Thanks, Luke If I lean my head back over the side of the sofa, I can see into my bedroom. Loki hasn't moved from his bed, lazy dog.

Getting up, I call out to him. "Come on, boy, time for your walk."

Making my way over to him with his leash and a couple c.r.a.p bags, I can't help but laugh at his walk avoidance maneuvers. He has rolled over onto his back, making it harder to get his leash on.

"I swear we'll only go for a short walk," I tell him. "But, you need to go outside now or you'll be scratching at the door in the middle of the night."

I manage to get him leashed and thankfully, he doesn't fight me once it's on.

"Was that so hard?" I ask once we're back inside.

He ignores me, going straight for his water dish.

"Faker," I grumble, sitting back down on my couch.

I hadn't put my laptop away from earlier and see Lindsay has already replied.

Luke, Might be sore...might be? Everything hurts. EVERYTHING!

Sincerely, Lindsay Her email makes me laugh. She did a good job keeping up during the session, so I hope she isn't in any real pain. I guess I'll find out for sure in a couple of days.

I hate him. I don't care that he's hot and s.e.xy, and has eyes that make you want to get lost in them for days with no hope of ever being found. I still hate him.

These were my first thoughts after my failed attempt to get out of bed this morning. I can't walk. I manage a deranged hobble; but at this point, I can't fathom how I will be able to work out again tomorrow.

An email is in my inbox this morning from Luke, in reply to the one I sent last night. It's a friendly reminder still to walk on the treadmill, but 'good news' I can leave the incline where it is. I'm only a.s.suming the tone is friendly because of the emoticon smiley face he signed off with.

Thank G.o.d it's Wednesday, bag day. I can skip hair and makeup because it friggin' hurts to lift my arms. I have a pedestal type table in my spare bedroom with a white tablecloth covering it. Purses pop when staged against the white background.

The outfit I've picked for today is a last minute, pure comfort decision. It's a long, black maxi dress with double leg splits. Main reason I picked it is, I can easily pull it over my head, and even though my arms hurt I'd rather mess with a cotton blend one piece than bending over to pull on shorts or a skirt.

A Kelly green vegan leather cross body is an amazing pop of color against my hip in the black dress. For my next dress with outfit shoot, I pick an old school comic strip inspired clutch. Since I'm wearing a solid, a patterned purse is a no brainer to add interest to another simple look. I use the pedestal to take a couple shots of a fun wallet and simple beachy tote.

Since I'm only in two of the pictures and I crop my head out of each shot, I have the files edited and ready to post in no time. No matter how c.r.a.ppy I feel I have to post. My followers expect something from me daily. If I go off schedule, I could lose followers. I've seen it happen to other fashion bloggers.

They burst onto the blog scene and overnight have a ton of people paying attention to them. Everything is going great until suddenly something happens in their personal lives and they stop posting consistently. Once you lose the attention of your followers, you are yesterday's news. You can't win them back; they've already moved on to the blogger who posts daily somewhere else.

Seeing as I have no actual life, I hope this will never happen to me. To be honest, the blog is my life at this point. I live vicariously through the person all my followers a.s.sume I am. If I didn't have that anymore, would I still exist?

My greatest fear is someday they'll find out I'm not exactly what I've claimed to be. When I first started gaining followers, I thought about quitting all the time or coming clean and admitting the pictures were altered. I do add a disclaimer that the pics are edited but I never said how much.

Everyone just a.s.sumes it's simple color correction or image sharpening, when it isn't. What stopped me from shutting it all down is for once in my life I felt popular. Almost overnight thousands of people wanted my advice. It was addicting. It still is addicting. It's also become a second income, which will probably surpa.s.s what I make at my day job this year.

If I can lose the weight, and become the person they all think I am, no one will ever have to know I lied. That wish alone has me hobbling to my kitchen to grab another fizzy water. I appreciate the fact Luke took the time to recommend something carbonated; still it isn't as good as c.o.ke though. Holding the door to my fridge open, I can't help still feel shock at the difference from a couple weeks ago to now.

All of my old favorite guilty pleasures are gone; my mouth waters just thinking about them. Grumbling to myself, I grab a hard-boiled egg and a banana with my drink, hoping it will somehow satisfy me.

I sit down at the small table in my kitchen to eat. This was another one of Luke's changes to my life. He gave a lot of credence to the concept of conscious eating. He wants me to stop eating in front of the TV, or sitting at my computer while I'm online. He thinks if I'm not distracted by other things, I will be better at recognizing when I'm full.

It's a logical argument; but my biggest issue with it is that my body has been used to eating a lot more calories than the diet he's put me on. My body is still hungry all the time. After my snack, I wait five minutes to allow my stomach enough time to tell my brain it's full.

When that signal never comes, I make a piece of wheat toast and pair it with a string cheese. It's after I've eaten them, I feel full-ish. Gone are the days where I would stuff myself until I felt sick. That was a good and bad thing. Why I ever ate like that in the past, I'll never know. Food has always been a source of comfort for me.

My earliest memories are making chocolate chip cookies with my mom or sharing an ice cream sundae on the couch with my dad. My parents are the sweetest, most loving people in the world. They don't understand my need to hide away, but they've given up trying to change me.

They live less than an hour away and make a point to come to visit me a few times a year. My mom has had some health issues with her weight, so they haven't been out yet this year. I should go see them. I should. It would make both of them so happy, but I can't. Even when I try to guilt myself into it, I know I won't.

The toast and cheese have filled me enough for me to leave the kitchen without contemplating eating my cupboards or stove. I get right to work. I'm freelance and could work anytime, but I like to keep a Monday to Friday, eight to five schedule. It keeps me organized and focused.

Short of a design emergency, which can happen, it's nice to clock out mentally at five. I forgo my usual morning sweep of the web for my blog since my schedule is already off. The post I put up today I should have conceptualized last night. Wanting to die after my workout is what kept me from it.

I'll get back on track tonight. I'll sweep at five and write my blog post for tomorrow. Then, tomorrow, if I can eat lunch quickly, I can write my next post so I'll be safe to veg out if Luke kicks my a.s.s again. Routines are important to me.

Having fail-safes in place ensures I get everything done that I need to keep me sane. Well, at least as sane as a person who doesn't leave their house can be.

"Buddy, you're gonna have to stay in here during my training session."

Loki squints at me, probably wondering why I woke him up, before turning over and going back to sleep.

Today was a c.r.a.p day. Some roided out a.s.shole tried to get into a flex off while I was with a client. Amy, my extremely hot, happily married to an NFL player who could bench press my a.s.s, was the real focus of his attention. He kept interrupting our session, claiming he was just helping out and his technique was better.

I was so close to losing my temper and putting him through a wall. Luckily, it didn't have to go that far; Amy caught on to his game and started telling him all about her husband.

He went off in search of another target not long after that. When I apologized to Amy for having to deal with that a.s.shole, she shrugged it off, fully committed to getting her workout in. People like that guy are the reason women only gyms exist. He gives a bad name to all of us non-douchebag guys.

So after dealing with that, all I wanted to do was decompress when I got home. Bringing work home with me in the form of my online training sessions with Lindsay messed with that. Before her when I got home, I could let go of anything bugging me. Other than my runs, I do the majority of my working out at the gym.

I shut the door to my bedroom, where I hope Loki will sleep through the whole session. My living room isn't huge so I push my sofa and coffee table as far back as I can to free up some more s.p.a.ce. After a quick glance around the room to make sure everything looks clean, I attach my tablet to my TV and web-call Lindsay.

She answers right away, stepping back to give me a half wave. Her pale blonde hair is up in a ponytail this time. Our first session she wore it in a bun so I had no idea it was so long, halfway down her back, even pulled up. I've always had a thing for long hair.

"How are you?" she quietly asks.

It's then I notice how stiffly she's standing and how slowly she moved to where she now is. "How bad are you feeling it?"

She gulps, lifting one shoulder. c.r.a.p, did I go too hard on her last time?

"Lindsay, I need you to tell me what hurts. I don't want to aggravate anything."

Her eyes drop to the floor. "It hurts to lift my arms and my lower back has been bothering me."

I grimace. I'm thrilled she's being upfront with me, but her back pain has me nervous. "I'm going to change my original plan for today, so we can hopefully relieve some of your back pain, but still get in a decent workout. Sound good?"

She nods, tilting her chin up until her pale blue eyes meet mine; and for a moment, I'm tongue-tied. It doesn't look like she's wearing makeup today but she's stunning. Did I even notice it two days ago?

"You have a yoga mat right?" I ask.

"I do." She approaches the screen, reaching for something on the right side of it. When she backs up, she has a grey mat in her hands.

Once both of our mats are laid out, I have her lie flat on her back with her knees up, pressing her lower back toward the floor.

"This is low impact. If your lower back bothers you, I think you should incorporate this and the next few stretches into your daily routine," I explain.

Next, I have her lift one foot off the ground, pulling her knee to her chest and holding it. Then I have her repeat the stretch with her other leg, then both legs at the same time. While she's holding both of her knees to her chest, her cat comes over and starts sniffing her ear.

"Coco, go away." She laughs, turning her head.

Her cat doesn't listen and starts tapping Lindsay's face with her paw. Turning to her side, Lindsay slowly gets up, scooping her cat as she stands.

"I'll be right back," she murmurs, walking out of view.

I stay on the floor and wait for her.

She doesn't take long, apologizing when she gets back. "Sorry about that. I should have thought to put her in another room for our session." She pauses. "Is that what you did with your dog?"

I roll over onto my side, facing her. "Yep, he was asleep though. He's a lazy b.u.m most of the time."

When she laughs this time, she covers her mouth, hiding her pretty smile. I roll back over, staring at my ceiling as I try to focus on my job and not my desire to make her laugh again.

I keep her workout floor based, yoga heavy. Part of the reason she may be in pain is because working out is a shock to her system. I thought the walking would have helped limber her up; but as I've learned, each body is different.

That doesn't mean I went easy on her. By the time we've reached our cool down stretch, she's breathing heavily.