...was strangely like going on a blind date. On my way there I gripped the steering wheel - my palms were sweaty, my heart was racing, I felt like I could pee in my pants. Not because I was excited, but because I was nervous. What if I made a fool of myself? What if I could only put in a mile before passing out? What if I fell? What if I sang out loud again? What if (God forbid) all of the treadmills were full and I had to use that horrible, ridiculously hard machine behind them OR even worse, the stationary bikes which hurt me in places we shouldn't even talk about? So by the time I got there my brain was in panic, frantic, overload mode. Awesome. And because my brain is still operating in panic, frantic, overload mode, I am going to write this post in a numbered list (that is always calming to me) so that I don't have to worry about trying to string my paragraphs together. (Really? You had no idea that that was something that I worry about? Well, its true.)
1. There were treadmills open. I took that as being a sign from God.
2. 1/4 mile into my power walk, Elvis left the tanning bed. No, I am not kidding. He really did. Black hair, lamb chops, the sunglasses. I thought about laying in there just so I could say that I used the same tanning bed as the King.
3. Some teenage boy was on this apparatus - bending over at the waist when holding onto the steering wheel weight. I have seen people use these weights before and they are one of the most ridiculous things ever. Truly.
4. 1/2 mile into my power walk I began to feel like my monthly visit had made its appearance. This made me sweat even more. Why, oh, why did I have to wear my light gray pants instead of the black ones? Why, oh, why was this happening to me? Why, oh, why did there have to be a row of people working out behind me? I tried to brush this irrational fear out of my mind, BUT...
5. At the 3/4 mile mark I could not calm myself. I felt like I was beginning to hyperventilate. And by now I was sure that 3 liters of a certain bodily fluid had spilled from my insides and was running down my leg. Surely people could see this. And surely they were all pointing and laughing at me.
6. At .81 miles I couldn't take it anymore. I made a hasty exit off the treadmill, strategically walked to my purse (making sure to take the path with the least amount of witnesses), while planning how I would exit the gym without causing a scene, and paid a visit to the bathroom where I found nothing. Absolutely, nothing, people. I decided to take precautions just to be on the safe side.
7. Returned my purse to the cubby, made my way back to the treadmills and hopped back on. (Didn't that sound like I was excited to be back?) I resumed my 4.2 mile pace. The nagging feeling that something was just not right would not leave me. And then I realized....I have no feeling in my leg on the right side from my bikini line to the middle of my thigh (this is my lovely reminder of the 2 c-sections and hernia repair that I have had - dead nerves) and this horrible sensation that I was feeling...yeah, um, it was my work out pants rubbing my thighs. Apparently in real life (as apposed to my work out life) my pants clearly DO NOT rub like that. Whew! You have no idea the relief I felt by getting to the bottom of this issue.
8. 2.04 miles....my underwear rode up and there was no way I could fix it. There were people behind me with nothing else to look at except my tush. Ok, that's not true. There are TVs hanging from the ceiling, but I like to think that they are really paying attention to my cute hiney.
9. 3 miles...done!
10. I have also decided that I would be much better at this whole work out thing if there was something more involved than self accountability which in turned has really ticked me off at Joy for deciding to live her crazy dreams by moving to CO. This is my time of need. She could train me. And she wouldn't be all hardcore, no smiling, get serious, stop goofing off, and no, I am not going to laugh at you because that would only encourage you. She would make me work and let me have fun. I think its a rare combination. But the thing is, is that I just don't get working out. Its not fun. I don't enjoy it. I can think of a thousand other things that I would rather do with my 45 minutes. Big sigh. But I am going back on Wednesday. Because I need to get my act together. Aren't you proud of me?