Thanks, George

I love working out, but I'm not a hardcore gym rat by any means. Example: I did deadlifts as part of my workout today. It's an exercise that gets you a lot of exercise for your money. It gets everything I want to work on, back, butt, legs, abs, shoulders, some chest, and arms. If I could only do one exercise, it would be deadlifts. Downside: you have to perform the exercise correctly or risk hurting your back, and it's incredibly difficult. If you aren't grunting and sweating, you need a heavier barbell.

So, I did this exercise: pick the barbell up off the floor. Bring to waist level. Lower the bar. Repeat. I did it until I couldn't lift the bar off the floor. I rested, and then I repeated the whole thing twice more. I did other exercises, and then I came back and did deadlifts in a different fashion. I did one set, barely. I took some weight off the bar. I did it again, and again.

I like being strong. I like the feeling of knowing I am sculpting my body. I like knowing that I'm burning fat. I like knowing that if I had to drag my husband away from something dangerous I'd be able to do it. It's intoxicating.

I only work out with weights about 2 hours a week, but they're an integral part of my fitness program. I love my weights. When my husband wants to spoil me, it's generally a fitness item I want. Recently he bought me a plate tree and dumbell rack "just because".

Do you know how I got started? I was working for a guy who ran his own business. He was terrible about paying me on time and I ended up quitting after about 8 months. While I was there, I met George, the hot dog vendor. He had his cart set up across the street. He was a bodybuilder and encouraged the then 180 pound something me to give it a try. He even gave me a set of 5 pound dumbells. I didn't use them much at first. I found an old magazine with a dumbell workout. By this time, I'd quit my job and lost George.

I know he'd be proud of me, deadlifting today. Thanks, George. I don't know how I'd have done it without the weights.