Is This Gonna Hurt?

Ron dragged me kicking and screaming to the Farragut Y this morning for what he's hoping is the start of our twice-weekly, morning workouts. I'm sure he expects me to go on my own at least one other day each week. We'll see. I didn't hate it.
He bee-lines to another Y (near his work) during his dinner break at least three nights a week. He may cut back if we keep up this morning routine. So he was kinda leading me around the place, showing me the drills. Finally, we both got on treadmills; me to walk, him to run. I only fell off once. (klutz) I didn't realize you had to actually pay attention to what you were doing. I got sidetracked watching some class that was going on, and the next I knew, I was off the side of the dang thing. Luckily I didn't go down, just off. After that, I kept my eyes straight ahead. No one wants to be the joke of the gym on their first visit.
The best was the machine where you push weights with your arms. Ron did it first, of course. Then I sat down. He moved the pin up a bit to lessen the weights for me. Couldn't budge it. Moved it further up. Still couldn't budge it. Put it in the very last slot. I could barely push it. He said, "Do at least ten." I did almost two. So he "helped" me with the last eight by pulling while I pushed. I have what's known as upper-arm strength deficiency. It's like iron-poor blood. Only worse.