I did about 45 minutes on the treadmill and elliptical doing a cross-training program. Just to switch things up a bit.
Then I did about 45 minutes of weight lifting. I took a conditioning class in high school to avoid having to take gym (telling you how much I hate gym class is a whole other blog). In that class two things happened: (1) I learned how to lift weights, and (2) for the first time I saw muscle definition in my arms. I have biceps? Who knew.
I haven’t lifted weights regularly for over a decade. Unless you count lifting children. Skinny children. But still children.
About a half an hour into my routine I got to the lat pull-down machine. I was feeling pretty good about myself being able to lift so much weight (relatively) or at least pull down so much weight, in this case. I got up to about 40 lbs. Which I think is good considering, a) I’m female, my strength is in my legs, and b) I haven’t lifted weights in over a decade as I mentioned before.
A little while later I was working on a machine near the lat pull-down when I saw a skinny teenage boy come into the weights area. He was possibly between the ages of 13 and 16, but nevertheless, was skinny as a twig. He then proceeded to go over to the lat pull-down. He immediately sat down and was able to pull down 90 pounds. Ninety freaking pounds! And here I was proud of my 40.
It was then that I realized that a skinny teenage boy is stronger than me. Seriously his arms were the size of Twizzlers.