When I say “sweating like Matthew Mcconaughey” I do not mean in the way that he does not wear deodorant. I’m a big fan of deodorant. In fact, with the way I sweat I should just roll Secret on from head to toe. But I usually just stick to my pits. Just wanted to get that out of the way.
“Whose is this?”
Everyone shrugged. “Put it on,” Gym Buddy Megan suggested. That was all the encouragement I needed to continue my petty crime.
I pulled it over my head. Problem 1: it had more straps than your average straight jacket. Not that I’d know that from experience. I just… you know, know things. Ahem.
After layering and cinching a multitude of Velcro straps, I did what any reasonable person wearing a weighted vest would do. I struck a Charlie’s Angels pose and then pretended to take a hit on my Kevlar vest.
Knowing I had limited time before the proper owner would return for their expensive little piece of gym couture, I decided to attempt every kind of workout I could think of – in under 2 minutes. I jumped rope. (Imaginary rope, actually. Our Y has a nefarious rope thief on the loose who steals all the long human-sized ropes. The fitness director has retaliated by purchasing 1,675 munchkin-sized ropes. So rather jumping rope, you’re pretty much just subjecting yourself to 50 lashes. All we need is the back side of a barn to really make it authentic. Or a pirate ship. Which incidentally, if anyone from the Y is reading this, a pirate ship is exactly the kind of awesomeness we need.)
I also ran on the treadmill, squatted, lunged, jumping jack-ed and for my grand finale, did a headstand. Gym Buddy Allison challenged me to a cartwheel which I totally would have done except there was no room.
To nobody’s surprise, the vest – weighing approximately 20 pounds, which we know because Gym Buddy Lisa took it over to the mammoth medical scale in the middle of the fitness floor (nice positioning, eh?) and weighed it for me – made squatting, lunging and jumping much, much harder. It was not uncomfortable though. In fact, I found it much nicer than holding dumb bells or a bar. All the weight was strapped to my abdomen like so many pounds of dirty bomb and so stayed nice and tight while I moved. No joint pain. No accidental whacking of sternum or dropping on toes or narrowly missing Gym Buddy Allison’s head as I swing wildly around to see what she’s laughing at. I dug it.
Running on the other hand, was not only harder but sucked much. I anticipated it being difficult to keep pace (and it was) but the vest bounced up and down a lot just like when I give my kids piggy back rides and the only place they can think to hold on to is right around my throat. Plus it was crazyfreakingawful hot in there. Like I’m-trapped-in-the- sauna- with- nary- a- grilled- cheese- in-sight hot. Like suffocating. Not like Paris Hilton.
It did nothing for my yoga practice.
Upon further investigation by the Gym Buddies and I, we decided that the vest was definitely made for a man which explained the ultra big arm holes and therefore the uncomfortable bouncing. Do they make women’s weighted vests? I have no idea but if they do, they’re probably pink. ‘Cause you know all girls love pink.
And then the inevitable happened. “R wants to know what you’re doing with his vest,” Lisa announced upon returning from her Voyage to the Scale, “and he sounds pissed.”
Chagrined, I immediately removed it and placed it back on the stretching mats. I have to admit, I kind of liked it. Especially once I noticed it had little pockets to add even more weight in. It would really save my neck (okay traps and shoulders) on back squats. Plus I’d be safe from sniper fire. It’s a win-win.
Moral of the story: I cannot be trusted around unattended fitness equipment. It’s a sickness, really.
Any of you tried a weighted vest? Love it? Name it? Do a headstand in it? Anybody have a Kevlar vest they’d like to share for an experiment??