I Think I Can
My lunchtime walking friend, known to regular readers as Worm Girl, has gone and done it. She has
coerced convinced me that on cold rainy days (such as today) we shouldn’t just avoid our lunchtime walk all together. We should, instead, go work out in our company’s fitness center.
My god how I hate gyms.
Hate them hate them hate them.
I conceded the points that we need to mix up our workouts, and we need to continue to work out even if weather doesn’t permit. So today, I followed her into the fitness center where we took up residence on two separate treadmills.
I lumped myself up on the walking deck of a shiny new machine and poked and prodded at the buttons and geegaws.
To the left of me, a tall, young, lithe brunette woman running all out on the treadmill. To my right, a shorter, tiny blond woman with loads of attitude. Also running.
I didn’t come here to run. Hell, at this point I wasn’t even walking because I couldn’t get the machine to start. After punching at the up arrow key, the belt started up but it was quite slow, so I didn’t get on it. I kept jabbing at buttons and “hmmm’ing” and “ummm’ing”.
Blondie snapped at me “You should just get on it!”
I thought how easy it would be to insert my foot into the middle of her tiny stride and send her flying. “Whoops! Did I do that? Sooooo sorry.”
See, when I walk on the walking trail, there’s no turning it on. No fiddling with buttons or a recalcitrant machine. I simply walk.
Also, on the walking trail, snooty Blondie would just jog past me and our association would be over. But no, I gotta stand next to her for the next hour feeling inadequate and awkward.
Did I mention that I hate gyms?
In addition, Worm Girl further convinced me to sign up for the company’s annual “fitness challenge.”
Over the next eight weeks we have to get weighed and measured, attend classes, and participate in physical challenges.
Today’s challenge was to log our fastest time to run or walk a mile.
So I warmed up a bit and then cranked up the machine and galumphed my way along.
Blondie and Brunette looked in askance as I became the little curvy engine that could. I huffed and I puffed and by god when it was done, I had turned in a respectable 16:04 minute mile.
I couldn’t sustain that pace, so I did two more miles at a seventeen and a half minute pace.
And now my legs ache.
Did I mention I can’t stand gyms?
Image found at Bottomless Mimosa.