For Christmas, Patrick and I got ourselves a gym membership. I've been talking about it for awhile, just me going alone, and that was fine, except that I didn't do anything about it. Then I thought, well, wouldn't it be more fun for us to go together? then I thought, hmm, wouldn't Patrick like to lose some weight, too?
The answer to all of those questions was "yes," so, on Friday, I went in and signed us up. We talked about going (together) on Saturday, and (separately) on Sunday, and, until I remembered that tonight I am playing flute quartets with Patty, Judy, and Greg, we were going to go tonight after Patrick gets home from work. Instead I went by myself (I'm off this week!).
It took me about 4 hours after waking up to actually get dressed to go, and in the meantime, I decided that I would complete the task I have been putting off for weeks, namely, cleaning the bathroom.
Let the record show that I would prefer to clean the bathroom than go to the gym.
It wasn't that I was afraid of the workout or anything; my goals are not very high - just to go and spend some time there is all I'm after right now. I don't want to look like Madonna. I just want to get my heart rate up and I want to do it in an environment that allows me to read or listen to my iPod instead of watching for cracks or tree roots in the pavement (by the way, I totally forgot that I could read while walking on the treadmill; I will definitely take some reading material with me next time). Anyway. After cleaning the bathroom, including scrubbing the tub and toilet and the floor, and disposing of all our expired medications, I finally got up the nerve, resigned myself to looking like a dork, put on my shoes and my Police t-shirt (and pants, too), and went.
I scheduled me and Patrick for our 1 hour orientation (where they take our measurements, and boy, doesn't that sound fun) for tomorrow night, I got some guy to show me how to use the treadmill, and then I set off for a 2 mile walk that had I done in real-life would not have even gotten me to the gym at all. Actually: it was 1.9 miles. I didn't even get to the 2 mile mark. Other people were running, other people were gorgeous - I was slow, sweaty (I forgot my towel) and thirsty (I also forgot my water), and breathing funny. I didn't realize that the machine would automatically "cool" me down after 30 minutes, so, after 35 minutes, my walk was over, and I hopped off to go home.
It was at this point - the hopping, actually - where I realized that walking 1.9 miles in real life and walking 1.9 miles on a treadmill at a pace I would never maintain on the streets (red lights, kids on bikes, stopping to pet dogs, etc.) are two entirely different things, because first of all, the step down from the machine to the floor seemed suddenly about 3 feet, and the floor, once I got there, seemed much harder than I remembered. And my legs were much wobblier. Much, much wobblier.
Eventually I would like to maybe use some of the weight machines or do something else but for now, 35 minutes was about right. And next time I'll bring a towel, my iPod, a book or magazine, and a fanny pack for my keys.
Yes, you read that right, I said "next time."
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