Yes, this definitely fits the bill, except for the pizza part. I hate pizza, but cookies? Yeah, cookies.
Every Monday one Weekly Bean story
Every week one vegetarian recipe challenge post
Every week one “Margy Tries to Exercise” post
Well, I can pat myself on the back. Put in a rather full work day, but found the time to work out at the gym. Went the usual route on the treadmill, but accidentally stopped after 28 minutes and 48 seconds. I was trying to slow the contraption down, to ease out of things, but hit the “off” button instead.
After a weekend of watching movies, viewing public gardens, getting together with friends for dinner and reading, I got myself back to the gym for a treadmill workout. I’m amazed at how challenging it is to get my butt across the street and around the corner to this little place. You’d think there were armed guards at the door, ready to shoot anyone who walks in.
Nonetheless, I made it over and got in 20 minutes on the treadmill. Walked home with no aches or sharp twinges anywhere. I’ll call that progress and use it as a prod to get me back there on Wednesday.
Well, call me a wimp, but I bugged out of the yoga class last night, for two reasons. Here’s my lazy reason: it was pouring rain out and I didn’t feel like getting wet. Yes, you can slap me with a wet towel for that. I was also, weirdly enough, stressed by the thought of going. It’s an expensive membership, even for a short period, and even yesterday afternoon I was heavy-breathing at the thought of the potential damage it would do to my bank balance.
Then I remembered: there’s a yoga class at the fitness center you just joined and paid year’s membership for. Idiot! Just go there.
So, here we are at day number 3 and my 15 minutes of fame on the fitness center treadmill. Don’t laugh – yesterday it was 10 minutes on the treadmill and I limped away afterward. Today I marched on in with my knee brace at the ready. I ran into the gym owner – I love local business – and told him I was feeling all better and could actually start exercising again! He looked happy as can be. He also agreed with my strategy to stick with the treadmills (low impact, he said) and leave the knee-wracking bicycle and rowing machines to the lower-bodily sound. Later on, when I can walk for at least 30 minutes several times a week, we’re going to visit the weight machines to get in some upper body work.
But, for now, walk, walk, walk!
Yes, here we are, folks! Margy’s exercise odyssey – day two.
I’m a disaster waiting to happen in a gym. Every year something else goes out and I end up spending more time at the physical therapist’s office than I do on the Stairmaster. My intentions…well, you know what the road to hell is paved with.
It goes like this.
1. I sign up for an exercise class or fitness center.
2. I’m really excited. I’m going to do it this time – get fit, finally!
3. Start an exercise class, regimen or workout routine. During the first five minutes I’m thinking: “yeah, go baby”! Pant, pant, pant. Then after another five minutes I’m thinking: “oh, God, keep going, keep going, it’s almost over…” Pant, pant, pant, pant, pant. Then after 2 minutes something screams “OW- OWWW-OWWW-OWWWW-STOP-STOP-STOP-RIGHT-NOW!!!!!”
4. I limp home and call the doctor. By now I’m on first-name terms with all the physical therapists. “Oh, hi, Margy!” they declare when I drag myself into their office.
Over the years it’s been my Achilles tendons, my wrists and upper back, my lower back and, most lately, my knees. That’s not even including the times I’ve managed to walk into things, like my husband’s shod foot while we were on vacation in August. I was barefoot and our hotel room was very, very small. I swung out of bed and all hell broke loose a second later as I smashed my three smallest toes against his sneakers. Those toes were black and blue for weeks. Dare I admit it? It’s the second time I’ve done that.
So, today I got myself to Fitness First in Arlington Center (yes, Arlington, Massachusetts readers. That link is for you!) and gave the treadmill another try. My toes screamed in protest the last time I tried, but they behaved themselves today: at least for a while. I walked, then a little faster, then my toes started to yell at me: “stop that right now!” I slowed down, but increased the incline. Aha! Faked out the little buggers. But, then my knee and I started up a conversation, that started with “um, Margy, that’s gonna’ hurt. Just sayin’.”
So, I gave it 10 minutes and then retired to the locker room. I burned a total of 45 calories. Don’t laugh!
Made it home after limping over to the farmers market for some onions. By then the rain was coming down sideways so I ended my outing and got the Ibuprofen and knee brace out.
But, my exercise is not yet over! I’m trying out a yoga class tonight at 7:30, the same place I went to yesterday and just down the street from the health club. If I’m still alive tomorrow I’ll tell you all about it.
I’m doing it. I’m telling you, I’m absolutely doing it. Getting back to the gym after a summer of injuries and oppressive heat.
Since my foot ached the last time it encountered a treadmill, I start with a walk around Spy Pond. It starts to rain, first gently, then more aggressively. I therefore walk FAST. 15 minutes. Not bad to start.
I spend the next 30 minutes searching for an online time tracker, so I can keep abreast of my progress. I finally realize that I’m being really stupid. Just write it in the f’ing blog.
I then visit my local Dahn Yoga center for a “Private Introductory Session.” I bang my meridians around, stretch, focus, stretch some more and then banish the cold, cruel and stressful world for the private peace of entry-level meditation.
Then I get stressed out again when the instructor tells me how much a membership will cost. Nonetheless, I will go to a class tomorrow. Tonight I will see how I sleep. Then we shall see!