Workout like the Terminator

Here I am early Wednesday morning, doubled over and breathing like I'm trying to suck the last bit of oxygen out of the Earth, and Adam The Terminator looks at his stop watch and says, "You did great. You must be feeling really good." Unable to lift my head up for another 30 seconds, I'm thinking: "What part of me right now makes you remotely think I'm feeling good?"

That's the Termination, my hand-picked personal trainer and tormentor through the Thanksgiving Turkey Trot. Forever the optimist (and not because I'm paying him to be one), answer man for all things running and besides from the workouts he's putting me through, a pretty nice kid. I can stay that because I'm probably old enough to be his dad, but he doesn't use that excuse to let me off the hook. That's another plus for Adam the Terminator.

I nicknamed Adam the Terminator because he's a former high school soccer player turned marathon runner. If you ever watched soccer players and how much they run during the course of one game or marathon runners by their very nature, they are pretty much indestructible. Besides, those 400-meter runs he put me through on Wednesday never seemed to stop. Thus, Adam is now the Terminator. He played at Cuyahoga Valley Christian Academy High School near Cleveland. Since Ashley went to Toledo Christian, we had a new topic to talk about between runs.

Now I have to admit, some of my instructors haven't earned such flattering names like the Terminator. Some of you who have kept up with me on Facebook, know of my love-hate relationship this summer with my aerobics and Zumba instructors who I affectionately dubbed Lil Satan. To be accurate, it was Lil Satan 1 and 2. Joani, Lil Satan 1, put me through the paces in Cardio Blast, out in the 90 degree heat outside the Purdue TREC. Jenny, Lil Satan 2, did Zumba in the sweltering indoors of the TREC on Thursdays. Joani and Jenny were both really great at what they do and their workouts were brutal. Alright, they were sorta fun, too. Not to mention I was the only male in both classes that I swear must have been all filled with former cheerleaders and gymnasts. I stayed in the back of the class praying no one would notice my complete failure to keep up.

So, actually, it was honor to have the nickname Lil Satan. No whimpy instructor would have earned a name so feared. I left each of their workouts dragging my gym bag to the car hoping to have enough strength to turn the ignition and make it back home.

So far, the Terminator has taken up the slack without a problem. Wednesday at 5:30 a.m. (EDT mind you), while all of you were in your comfortable beds, dreaming of ice cream sundaes and chocolate cakes, the Terminator had me running 400 and 200-meter repeats with short breaks in between. It was worse than one of Coach Morgan track practices (those who attend Hebert High School in Beaumont will get that one.) In between there, I did squats and a lot of stretching. My left shin started to hurt (really, honestly, it did), so the Terminator gave me Thursday off. I must have found a soft stop. I did a light jog today but back to grind on Saturday with workouts fit for . . . well, a Terminator. I've got to do them because I know, "he'll be back."

Arnold Schwarzenegger would be proud. Of Adam, not me.