"I'll bet you can do thirty."

Tonight, after waiting a long time for an appointment, I had my first meeting with a personal trainer, of which you get three along with a new membership at my wonderful new gym. My new trainer is wonderful, too. Tonight was just a fitness assessment. First thing is I wrote down my email address and date of birth. When I got to the year, I expected some kind of reaction (kind of oversensitive about it lately, haven't I been?), but just as I was starting to say, "This is where you say I look really good for 44,", he said, "My birthday's on June 9th! I'm a Gemini too!" And kept bringing up this common characterstic between us the whole meeting.

I loved him just for that alone, but the rest of the session made me love him more. He was one of those people like the ones you sometimes meet in the medical professional, who, no matter what state you're in or what you look like, greet you with a beaming sunny smile (in fact I think my trainer's last name is Sunny on his card, maybe he changed it to match his outlook on life), and talk to you with delight and care, and are just so excited that you're taking this step to improve your health and life! After we did height, weight and girth, I had to do some fitness stuff. First was three minutes of stepping, at the same rhythm, and then measure my heart rate after. I did quite well, but was feelin' it in one quad by the end. Then was situps, and he apologised for the style of the situp because it's not good for your back but it's what the machines require, for calibration. He held my ankles and I had to come all the way up, and back down, as many times as I could in a minute. "You're doing great," he said. "That's 10, that's great." "You're going to get to 20, no problem!" "Look at you, you're going to go past 20! 23! That's great!" He made me feel like the fittest 44 year old woman ever in the history of the world. I have no idea if 20 is lots or hardly any, but there's something about the magic of those round numbers.

The next thing was push ups. No time limits, just as many as you can do, at all. Argh. That means you really do push to your limit, and you're going to feel a bit of pain at the end, you'll feel a bit of challenge. It was the third thing, too, so I was wearing out just a teeny bit. But I did about three, to check form, and he said, "You're strong!" I said, "Thank you." "I'll bet you could do a straight push up, or two!" (I was doing girly ones on my knees.)

Again I got to 20, and felt pretty smug. But he said, "Yep, keep going, keep going." I got to about 26, and was thinking, one more, that's it, I'm in pain, I can't do any more. And just as I paused at the top and thought that, he interjected overtop of my thought patterns, "I'll bet you can do 30."

A second before then, I could not have. I was going to do 27. But the number was in front of me, and the encouraging profession of belief from my carer and minder, and I went for it! Groaning, grunting, going "Argh!", going red in the face, pushing myself, I did three more quick ones, through the pain, and I did 30!

My muscles hurt in a pushed-myself kind of way they have not for a while. And I'll bet I'm going to be bloody sore tomorrow. But I love how we can push ourselves when a loving encourager is setting the goal a little more ambitiously. I love the pursuit of round numbers for their own sake. And I am of course already wondering about booking my new sunny trainer for once a week after my free sessions are up.