A couple of weeks ago, on a Saturday, I awoke to a rainy morning. I love rainy days, so that was no problem. The one problem was that I've gotten kinda addicted to my morning walks. Now that Zane goes with me, yes GOES WITH ME, they aren't exactly the intimate walks with God that they used to be. Now it's kinda like my talking to God on the telephone with Zane constantly interrupting. That's okay, though, because I figure that's just where I am right now.
So after getting a little antsy about missing my walk, it occurred to me that maybe I should go to the Y to walk on the treadmill. I don't like treadmills, and honestly had only been on a treadmill one other time in my life. I figured that I'd give it a try given that I needed to get out of the house and this was a free thing I could do. Free was good. Exercise was good. How could I go wrong?
I poked in my head in and checked with Allen. He was cool with it, and I asked him again how to work the treadmill. See, I was a little nervous. He laughed and said, "Um, you kinda get on it and turn it on..." He saw the look on my face and assured me that I would be fine. I get really nervous about this sort of thing. The ultimate in silliness. What if I get in there and can't get the thing on and everybody is looking at me and I still can't figure it out? It's like being in 6th grade all over again!
So I headed out, only partly daunted, to the Y. On the way to the cardio room, I stopped by the bathroom. I stood, frozen, in the bathroom lobby, because it occurred to me that I could go into the "adult only" locker room. I stood there for a moment, relishing in the face that I could actually venture where I had never ventured before. I am sad to report that the adult locker room is MUCH nicer than the family one. Not that I can blame the Y. My kids are also on a continuous path of destruction, though mostly unintended, to cut a swatch through the world. So I figure the Y is only protecting some investment. I mean, they even had a massaging recliner in there. They were living in up in style over there. Oh well.
After exploring the bathroom further, it was time to go meet the beast. I entered the cardio room trepidatiously. I approached the last row of treadmills, which was empty, and cautiously stepped on. Sure enough, there was a huge ON/OFF button. So I pushed it. Easy enough. No need to flee in embarrassment. I got going a little to get warmed up. I got my music going. I increased my speed a little more and a little more. I got a little incline going. I was starting to get comfortable. I still had to clutch the handrails, convinced I was going to somehow fly off the back of the thing and smash into the mirrored wall behind me. But I was getting comfortable.
Then, it happened.
I realized that I have gym neurosis.
It should have been expected, really. I'm a weirdo. Why would I not be weird at the gym?
As I studied the two people walking in front of me, I realized I needed to see their speeds of how fast they were walking. I had to be sure I was walking faster than they were. Why? Who the heck knows? I also realized that I didn't want to walk on that row of treadmills, because I wouldn't want people looking at my butt while I was walking. Like they would. Then, even though I was the only person on my row, a nice man came and got on the treadmill right. next. to. me. UGH. So then I had to study his workout progress. I kept up with him until he started to run. Then I gave up on that. Oh but I that didn't keep me from trying to see/hear what was on his iPod.
Then, even though we were the only two on our row, another nice man came in an got on the treadmill right next to me on the other side. REALLY? Now I was a little annoyed. I felt a little claustrophobic. And I had another speed to keep up with. Luckily he was a runner and put me in the dirt very soon. So I was back to keeping ahead of the two other walkers in the room. I got a little worried about the amount of sweat falling on the various parts of the treadmill, but was tremendously relived to see that when you are done, you get one of this little antibiotic wipie things and you wipe down the top part of your treadmill. That made me feel so much better. I did wish that I had wiped mine off before I got on it, just in case the person before me didn't do such a great job.
I also got fascinated with this one girl who, when she ran, never ever put her heels down. She ran entirely on her tiptoes. I know this because I studied this for quiet a while. I was mesmerized. Then I wondered if I could ask her to put her heels down so I could stop looking at her feet and wondering about this. It wasn't like I had a whole lot else to do. Then I forced myself to stop thinking about that and move on. That can be done occasionally. And luckily she didn't run for very long. And how could you, when you're only running on your tiptoes?
There are lots of televisions on the wall, but without the earphones, you can't hear anything on them. That's really frustrating, although I'm not putting on those headphone thingies. The very nice people at the Y assured me that they disinfected them, but I'm not sure there's a level of disinfection that I'm comfortable with when it comes to copious amounts of sweat. I stayed obsessed with the workout numbers on my treadmill panel. There's way too much information for a person like me who loves numbers and measuring and all that stuff. I hate that you see how many calories you are burning. On one hand, it's nice because it's a great motivation to keep going. On the other hand, it's depressing how far and fast you have to go just to burn off one Cliff Bar you had with your coffee that morning.
So I turned my focus to my music. I started worshiping and praising God, just like in the mornings in the neighborhood. I'm quite sure my neighbors think I'm crazy, walking about, swinging my hands in the air and pumping my arms up and down. I guess I just look crazy, but I don't care much. I did care on the treadmill, although I did get a few clandestine hand raises in. That took me through the end of my workout.
I went back the next day, and found that I had to get on the exact same treadmill. We had a history, he and I. It was another good workout, and I was surprised how sore I was from the day before. I guess I get a much better workout on the treadmill that sauntering about my neighborhood. It was a great way to spend some alone time, and I do want to go back and do it again more regularly. I just don't want people to get on those treadmills right next to me. :)
So after getting a little antsy about missing my walk, it occurred to me that maybe I should go to the Y to walk on the treadmill. I don't like treadmills, and honestly had only been on a treadmill one other time in my life. I figured that I'd give it a try given that I needed to get out of the house and this was a free thing I could do. Free was good. Exercise was good. How could I go wrong?
I poked in my head in and checked with Allen. He was cool with it, and I asked him again how to work the treadmill. See, I was a little nervous. He laughed and said, "Um, you kinda get on it and turn it on..." He saw the look on my face and assured me that I would be fine. I get really nervous about this sort of thing. The ultimate in silliness. What if I get in there and can't get the thing on and everybody is looking at me and I still can't figure it out? It's like being in 6th grade all over again!
So I headed out, only partly daunted, to the Y. On the way to the cardio room, I stopped by the bathroom. I stood, frozen, in the bathroom lobby, because it occurred to me that I could go into the "adult only" locker room. I stood there for a moment, relishing in the face that I could actually venture where I had never ventured before. I am sad to report that the adult locker room is MUCH nicer than the family one. Not that I can blame the Y. My kids are also on a continuous path of destruction, though mostly unintended, to cut a swatch through the world. So I figure the Y is only protecting some investment. I mean, they even had a massaging recliner in there. They were living in up in style over there. Oh well.
After exploring the bathroom further, it was time to go meet the beast. I entered the cardio room trepidatiously. I approached the last row of treadmills, which was empty, and cautiously stepped on. Sure enough, there was a huge ON/OFF button. So I pushed it. Easy enough. No need to flee in embarrassment. I got going a little to get warmed up. I got my music going. I increased my speed a little more and a little more. I got a little incline going. I was starting to get comfortable. I still had to clutch the handrails, convinced I was going to somehow fly off the back of the thing and smash into the mirrored wall behind me. But I was getting comfortable.
Then, it happened.
I realized that I have gym neurosis.
It should have been expected, really. I'm a weirdo. Why would I not be weird at the gym?
As I studied the two people walking in front of me, I realized I needed to see their speeds of how fast they were walking. I had to be sure I was walking faster than they were. Why? Who the heck knows? I also realized that I didn't want to walk on that row of treadmills, because I wouldn't want people looking at my butt while I was walking. Like they would. Then, even though I was the only person on my row, a nice man came and got on the treadmill right. next. to. me. UGH. So then I had to study his workout progress. I kept up with him until he started to run. Then I gave up on that. Oh but I that didn't keep me from trying to see/hear what was on his iPod.
Then, even though we were the only two on our row, another nice man came in an got on the treadmill right next to me on the other side. REALLY? Now I was a little annoyed. I felt a little claustrophobic. And I had another speed to keep up with. Luckily he was a runner and put me in the dirt very soon. So I was back to keeping ahead of the two other walkers in the room. I got a little worried about the amount of sweat falling on the various parts of the treadmill, but was tremendously relived to see that when you are done, you get one of this little antibiotic wipie things and you wipe down the top part of your treadmill. That made me feel so much better. I did wish that I had wiped mine off before I got on it, just in case the person before me didn't do such a great job.
I also got fascinated with this one girl who, when she ran, never ever put her heels down. She ran entirely on her tiptoes. I know this because I studied this for quiet a while. I was mesmerized. Then I wondered if I could ask her to put her heels down so I could stop looking at her feet and wondering about this. It wasn't like I had a whole lot else to do. Then I forced myself to stop thinking about that and move on. That can be done occasionally. And luckily she didn't run for very long. And how could you, when you're only running on your tiptoes?
There are lots of televisions on the wall, but without the earphones, you can't hear anything on them. That's really frustrating, although I'm not putting on those headphone thingies. The very nice people at the Y assured me that they disinfected them, but I'm not sure there's a level of disinfection that I'm comfortable with when it comes to copious amounts of sweat. I stayed obsessed with the workout numbers on my treadmill panel. There's way too much information for a person like me who loves numbers and measuring and all that stuff. I hate that you see how many calories you are burning. On one hand, it's nice because it's a great motivation to keep going. On the other hand, it's depressing how far and fast you have to go just to burn off one Cliff Bar you had with your coffee that morning.
So I turned my focus to my music. I started worshiping and praising God, just like in the mornings in the neighborhood. I'm quite sure my neighbors think I'm crazy, walking about, swinging my hands in the air and pumping my arms up and down. I guess I just look crazy, but I don't care much. I did care on the treadmill, although I did get a few clandestine hand raises in. That took me through the end of my workout.
I went back the next day, and found that I had to get on the exact same treadmill. We had a history, he and I. It was another good workout, and I was surprised how sore I was from the day before. I guess I get a much better workout on the treadmill that sauntering about my neighborhood. It was a great way to spend some alone time, and I do want to go back and do it again more regularly. I just don't want people to get on those treadmills right next to me. :)
r
1 comment:
Gosh. I mean, golly. I love you, but that is amazingly exhausting. Not the walking part, all the rest of it. I'm tired for you!
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