In November, after over a year in the city, I joined the gym. And I actually went to it. For awhile I spent most of my time on the ellipticals, except for that one time when they were all filled and I had to use the bike. That night SUCKED. My butt was so numb by the end of that “workout” (b/c I don’t feel that sitting in a chair and peddling is strenuous) that I decided no more bike. EVER.
Then, randomly, I bumped into this dude in the elevator who asked me if I had ever taken classes at the gym and who told me he was going to yoga. I asked him if he’d think it was creepy if I tagged along. (Yes, I really did say that and while he said “no” everyone else in the elevator was totally thinking “YES!!! RUN AWAY DUDE!”) So Mike the Fireman and I went to yoga that night. He never came back but since Boo had gotten me a yoga mat for Christmas I was happy to keep up w/my twice-weekly classes. Then, in February, they shuffled around the schedule, leaving me with only 1 class that worked for my time frame. (Yeah, like I’d skip Gossip Girl for the gym…psh!)
I was doing pretty well with the yoga until I threw my back out. All of the bending and the twisting didn’t seem like the best idea b/c I had no idea what would piss my back off again. So, while the stretching would have been super helpful, I gave up on the yoga.
I was feeling pretty blah about the whole gym thing. I was at the point where I just KNEW that the girls who worked the front desk were laughing at me b/c I usually spent a grand total of 25 minutes there. I felt like the machines themselves were laughing–they just KNEW that I was a slacker.
And then I got engaged. And I kept getting email reminders (and yes, it’s on the checklist) about my “wedding workouts” and I started to wonder if perhaps now would be a good time to actually do more than spend 25 minutes reading People while on the machines.
So I started with the rowing machine. I used to dig this machine in college and so I figured I’d try it again. Guess what? I still like it. I can still do it. So on the workout list it remains. I’m too short for the pull-up machine (which is actually a shame b/c I really like doing those) and I can barely reach the pull-down bar on the other machine. Those 2 are out. But I’m hanging tough with my free weights (3 pounders baby, awww yeah) and I’m rocking out the situps/pushups/leg lifts/activities that I don’t need to be paying money to attend a gym for but do any way b/c I feel like I’m getting my money’s worth.
Then, after finding out that an old drinking buddy of mine is running in a half-marathon next weekend I thought I’d give running, er, jogging, another try. Let me just say that I spent 7 years of school with “doctor’s” notes to get me out of the running units. I even made up songs about how much I hated runnig the mile (and they were set to Hakuna Matata…I was SO cool!). I have never, not once, EVER in my life run by choice. I am a firm believer in “don’t run unless you think you’re going to die.” Granted if my options were ever “run or die” I would start out running and end up dead, so, you know, there’s that.
So there I was, last Thursday night, standing on the treadmill. I turned it on and upped the speed. I started walking, got my blood flowing a little and I hit a quarter mile. I upped the speed a little more and I started to jog. I jogged for an entire quarter mile. I did another walk/jog half mile and upped the speed incrementally for both before ending my night with a quarter-mile cooldown.
That’s right. I jogged a whole half mile. And no one had to threaten me with anything.
The worst thing about it?
I actually felt good afterward. I felt like I could possibly do this again.
And last night–I did.
I’m mildly terrified that I may turn into a “runner,” you know, someone who actually ENJOYS panting and sweating and setting the speed on the treadmill faster than 3mph.
But if I can tone the tummy…and the arms…and the legs before the wedding–and if I can do it w/o Jillian Michaels scaring me into it–then I’ll be pretty happy.