Workout Regime: Day 2

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I decided to try going to the Y in the morning because I figured the ridiculously fit pregnant woman wouldn’t be there to kick my butt again. I went when it opened at 5 in the morning. That in itself is quite a feat because I didn’t realize people actually did things at that time of day when not compelled to by a hungry infant.

I settled myself on to the machine I lovingly refer to as the “High Mark Time Machine”. That’s another sign I was a member of a marching band and have no idea what I am doing in a gym. It was almost directly in front of the TV so I was ready to enjoy the antics of the local morning show hosts. (Oh, Vicky…You and those chocolate covered almonds!)

And then I realized why no one else capitalizes on the sweet calm of a 5 am work out. The elderly arrived.

It was like Cocoon descended upon the Y. They came in droves! First there was Fit Granny. She works out so frantically, I was actually getting a little concerned. She appears to have a Go Big or Go Home attitude because she had loud clothing, big hair, and blasted the industrial fan at herself, making it impossible for anyone else in the building to hear the TV.

Dang it. Now I will never know what National Peanut Butter Month means for Upper Michigan.

Well, at least I can read the captions on the TV.

No. No, I can’t. A sweet little old thing I am going to call Ethel plomped herself on the machine right in front of me. It was one of those bikes old people love with a fan for a front tire and handle bars that move back and forth as you pedal. Go to any gym ever and you will see one of those things. It’s exclusively used by the elderly and they always work out very gently and leisurely on it.

I try not to begrudge other people’s fitness but, come on! Your head is now blocking the captions on the TV. You should give the stair stepper a try. You’d like it. Plus, it’s in the back of the room.

So, now I couldn’t see or hear the TV and completely missed the story about the guy tasering his wife over a football bet. (Wisconsin. That is my explanation for that one.) But, at least I am getting fit-ish.

But then I got flanked on both sides by little old men who desperately wanted to talk to each other. And me. As a tall girl, I get a lot of ridiculous comments from old guys so I was pretty much ready to peace out of there. (Once I had an old guy mention he would like to dance with me because he likes dancing “cheek to chest”.)

As they nattered on about all their false joints and the latest on Obamacare as regurgitated directly from Fox News, I started thinking maybe being out of shape wasn’t such a bad idea.

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