Working out again, for the first time

I could feel it with every shovelful of snow I threw Monday morning. My arms ached, my shoulders throbbed and my chest felt like it was going to explode.
I know, I know. The snow we received Sunday was really powdery and not hard to throw. Any other day and I would have busted through the 18 inches that fell at my house in Old Town like it was nothing. The thing is, I’m still recovering from my foolish idea to start working out again.
It all started with that reality check I had with doctors about a month ago. The physician looked at my charts, my age and that annoying heart palpation (a.k.a. flutter) and said, “Your cholesterol is high, but if you take fish oil pills and start exercising you’ll be fine.”
So I did what any responsible person would do: started taking fish oil pills, got a membership to the local gym, or in this case the Piscataquis Region YMCA. I walked in, signed up ... and never went.
It is the thought that counts after all, right?
Somehow I didn’t think that was the case.
After another cholesterol check through work revealed the first test wasn’t complete bunk (like I hoped it was) and showed high cholesterol levels again, I finally decided to utilize my membership at the PRYMCA and go work out for once.
It had been a couple years since I stepped into a weight room prior to last Friday. It dated back to my days at the La Crosse Tribune back in Wisconsin, when I would work nights and have nothing to do during the days besides drink coffee, play video games and watch SportsCenter.
I was never a huge lifter; it was just something for me to do really. The little bit of exercise I got felt good and it was good for me, or so I was told.
Well, at least it felt good at first.
Now I feel awful, and it’s all because I was stubborn enough to push myself too hard in the gym that first time back. The plan was initially to just ease into a comfortable plan that would help me get into shape again and get my heart a workout. Instead, after my first set on the bench press, I realized I lifted a lot more weight when I was back in high school playing for the football team and thought to myself, “I should be able to lift more than this. I know I can lift more than this.”
And that’s what I did. My next exercises all had increased weights on them. It felt good at the time. I could feel that burn people talk about after a hard run or a good workout. It felt really good to feel that again.
But by Sunday night, nearly 48 hours after my first workout in a year and a half, I could barely reach my mouth with my fingers without feeling my arm was going to snap back into a straight position next to my body as if it were spring-loaded. Jackets and sweatshirts were a puzzle for me to put on without every muscle flaring up in pain. Heck, even something as simple as brushing my teeth because a chore because I could barely lift my right arm high enough to reach my mouth.
This doesn’t mean that I’m not going back to the Y in the near future. Rather, it means I just take my time getting back to that level I was once at.
Now, if you excuse, I have to go stretch out my arms so I can lift my cup of coffee to head level again.