Math is Not My Strength

I've been working out with a trainer for about 6 months. It's been going really well. I've tried a lot of new things and I'm learning a lot. Making great progress. Seeing the results I want. We've done power lifts and hero workouts and cross-fit and auxiliary weights/movements (and I only know these phrases because my trainer uses them 🥴) and jumping rope and things with a kettlebell I'll likely have eternal nightmares over. But I feel like I've accepted all the challenges and honestly crazy ass workouts he's thrown at me with nary a raised eyebrow (okay a few raised eyebrows and occasional eyeroll) but did them all without (too much) complaint. Just sucked it up and did it. Never once have I been tempted to quit or walk out or not come back.

Today for front squats he said, "we're going to start with 70 and progress up each set from there. 5 sets of 3."

And I yawned and waited for him to load the bar like he always does. And he said, "I'm looking at you. What do we need?"

Waiting for me to calculate the weight of the plates we needed.

What he said.. 🔼

What I heard.. 🔽

😵

COMPLETE DEER IN THE HEADLIGHTS. Couldn't math. Couldn't breathe. Totally froze. I had nothing.

Nothing. Like soo visibly, audibly, acutely flustered.

I'm not a complete halfwit (my husband will try to throw in a snarky comment, but really I'm not). Admittedly, math is not my strong suit but I can actually do basic math. The bar is 45, subtract that from the total weight you want and then divide by 2. Of course then you have to break that down into plates available, but easy peasy. 😏😝😂

It wasn't that I was incapable of calculating the requisite plates, but I was so caught off guard and being put on the spot and in general have such a nope mindset about math, I couldn't even figure out how to flip the switch in my brain to even attempt to crunch the numbers.

I was just 🙅‍♀️🤐😑😶.

He just stared at me and I was all Head on a swivel, like 'wtf do I do now.'

I think I might have managed "Uhhhh," like 6 or 7 times.

Zero chance of any form of recovery.

Pretty unforgettably humiliated.

Closest I've ever come to saying, 'Hell nah, I am not going back there.'

Not the squats or burpees or kettlebells. Not the rowing machine or crossfit/hero workout nonsense I keep torturing myself with.

The everloving math.

Luckily, I'm no stranger to finding myself in humiliating circumstances so I'll probably keep going, but it was a doozy, friends.

Apparently, now, not only do I need a trainer to get/stay fit, I need a math tutor. Interested parties can DM me.

Kidding. I'll be fine. My 7th grader (or 3rd grader. or 2nd grader 😑) can probably help me.