Some weeks are so bad you want to quit.

Some days you wake up and know that the fight is in you.

Over the past few days I've had a couple of people make offhanded glances or comments that make it clear to me that workout-related changes are starting to become apparent to other people.

Wait. Who am I kidding? Of course they're starting to appear. What am I, an idiot? (No answers from the peanut gallery!) What imbecilic part of my brain thought I could drop three jeans sizes, two bra-band sizes, and an unknown number of shirt sizes (probably 1-2) without anyone noticing?

Yes, well, I'm a dork. We established this years ago. (On this site, no less.) Move along, darlings, and find a new chew toy to play with; this one's been gummed to death already.

* * * * *

I encountered a new breed of gym inhabitant today: the Sneaky Spotter. Sneaky Spotters are stealth creatures, masquerading as normal weight-toting folk, who prove to have a couple of sleeve-hidden aces they whip out and show you when you least expect it.

I got beaten over the head by a well-hidden ace of spades after today's second bench press set. I only need a spotter for the bench press, and since it's in my first rotation of exercises, I try to track down a spotter as soon as I finish my warm-up cardio. Today's candidate was a nice guy, late thirties, good form, obviously had the musculature to handle spotting me.

I explained that I went up on weight on Friday, and that I struggled, needing four forced reps to finish the second set, and might need a bit of the same today. (Just hopefully not quite as much.)

Meathead term of the day: 'forced reps' implies that you're lifting a weight that you can't quite do a full set of reps on. Just because you can't lift 100 pounds again doesn't mean that you can't lift 90 or 80 pounds another time or two. Sometimes that small drop in weight makes the difference. The idea: your spotter takes a small amount of the weight you're lifting, allowing you to push your muscles closer to their limit, while providing you a backup and protecting you from actual injury.

I settled in and did the first set competently, though I noticed that I was wobbling a bit. Once I realized that I wasn't centered on the bench and fixed the problem, my left arm - the slightly stronger one - suddenly straightened up and started acting right. The rest of the set wasn't easy, but it was manageable.

I completed the rest of the first round (incline leg presses, alternating shoulder presses, and standard crunches on a stability ball) and came back to the bench press.

He asked, "You ready?" and I thought, "No!"

Okay, so I think that a lot. The trick is learning the difference between the mental pout of "I don't wanna" - a very natural reaction to the voluntary decision to move heavy objects around - and "I can't," which is the body trying to be sensible and telling you that no, it's really had enough this time.

I got my ass on the bench press anyway, because you know what? I want these changes that the weight training does to my body, and plopping my butt down on the bench while not lifting any weight doesn't make those changes happen.

He spotted me more carefully for the second set. I made sure I was centered, and started the reps. By rep seven, I knew I was just about spent.

"Grab on at eight." He did.

I completed rep eight. Rep nine was harder. Rep ten was possibly the most concentrated muscular effort I'd had to make in quite some time. The bar wobbled a bit as I put it back, but it landed safely. Next time, I thought, it will be easier, and I'll be able to do it on my own. I sipped water from my bottle as the immediate burn in my upper chest eased. I thanked him for spotting me - always thank your spotter! - and he grinned.

"Hon, I just put my hands on the bar. It was totally a mental exercise. I didn't take a bit of the weight. You did it all yourself. You can do that weight. You just don't quite think you can yet."

Ace of spades to the right temple. Ow.