I noticed recently that I might not be in the tip-top shape I was a few years ago when I was running daily and racing in triathlons. It was a very gentle and subtle thing that got my attention. The button from my pants ricocheted off the ceiling fan and glided in to a soft landing somewhere behind my bed. The soft plop of the button on the carpet got me thinking about considering an exercise regimen.
Yep. It’s time to get active again. I’m in shape, though. Well, I’m in a shape. “Exploded tube of biscuit dough” isn’t really the shape I was going for, I guess.
So, this weekend I renewed my membership at the Y. The kids were far more excited than I was because of the kids’ gym they have there. But, I was definitely ready for the challenge of getting back in to a non-Pillsbury shape.
I chose an arc-trainer as my first foray back in to working out. Immediately I began sweating like a boar at a pig roast so, I was looking GOOD. A heavily pregnant woman was working out gently next to me so, I figured I wouldn’t embarrass myself too much. But, then she got done with her warm-up, cranked up the intensity and smoked me. Harsh. I tried keeping up with her, but it made me sound like Darth Vader on speed.
As I was wallowing in self-pity and perspiration, Robert came out to the gym floor to get a drink from the fountain. Upon seeing me gaspng and dying, he ran over, smacked me on the butt, and ran away shouting, “WIGGLY BUTT!!” for the entire gym to hear. Yes, they all heard it. Yes, 3/4 of the gym briefly stared at my butt. Cool.
He’s apparently banking on the fact that I really, really love him and that I have determined that proper retaliation isn’t worth the jail time.
I did persevere and eventually I was almost keeping pace with the pregnant lady, so I was pretty proud of myself. I felt good and was mentally planning out my next moves. I am going to stay motivated and eat healthy and work out! YEAH!
But, don’t freak out, guys. I’m currently eating Jif Whips straight out of the container so, I’m not going to be the next Jillian Michaels or anything. We’re not going crazy over here…