1. Why am I awesome? I can’t believe you’re even asking me that.
2. Busy. Yes. This. So far this week I have spent approximately 16 conscious hours in my apartment. The rest have been spent at work, at the gym, at really awesome arts in education conferences, at choir practice, at Rite Aid picking up discount Valentine’s candy for the second week in a row (and accidentally dubbing it Valoween Candy because it is both chocolatey goodness and horrifying, which I kind of think should be filed under #1), Olympics watching, reconnecting with Bollywood, visiting the fam and generally making sure that when I climb into bed at night I’m more in love with my duvet than ever. I hope you are coping sufficiently with my lack of posts, and I’ll try to step up it up. Geez, I’ll do anything you want, just stop yelling at me*.
3. The Y has this great 12 week personal trainer program, where a trainer walks you through the machines, gets you started on a regimen and checks in with you every month for 3 months. Since I had to fire my Virtual Trainer for being totally useless, I was encouraged when Nicole, my Very Tall Trainer, was able to both hear and respond to my questions. After my introductory session with her I felt something like a victim of the Inquisition who strolled up to the Inquisitor and asked if I could borrow the key to the rack, just to brush up on my pain feeling skills.
That’s right, I do weight machine things now. I’m no longer the girl lip-synching with her eyes closed on the elliptical while pretending she’s shooting an extended pre-makeover sequence for a music video. I now also breathe weirdly while tugging on metal bars and flexing muscles I’m pretty sure Very Tall injected me with when I wasn’t looking. Oh, and staring at the neck tendons of the Very Manly Guys Who Can Lift, Like, So Much, except they’re so Extreme they have to just let go really fast and it clangs and they grunt and we’re all very uncomfortable as we try to figure out which member of the weight machine rotation forgot deodorant today. (It’s usually NeckTendonGuy).
So far I’d say I’m 10 to 20 times stronger than I was this time last week. When I check in with Very Tall next month she’ll probably tell me to start bench pressing cars on my way home.
Oh sure, you’re all cocky and triumphant now, but I saw you between reps 10 and 11 of my leg-pushy-ony-thingy set. I didn’t think it was possible to cry and shriek at the same time. You shut up.
ANYWAY, as per usual, just when I’ve gotten into a rhythm of awesome sauce (25 minute
music video interlude warm up, 15 minutes in the weight room, 30 minute cardio workout while adapting the Last Minute Makeout Partner game to instead choose Guy I’d Want To Give Me CPR) the gym gods are all Oh, so you’ve figured out how to workout and leave the facility on your own two feet, have you? Well now we’re going to make it slushy outside. Oh, you’ve brought boots? Well, we’re going to magically remove the sweat pants from your gym bag. Now find your way home. Oh, and we’re going to blow snow at you horizontally.
But the joke’s on the gym because after only one excruciating block, the M63 actually came! For the first time in 6 weeks of gymming! Fortunately the No Pants Subway Ride had prepared me for the last block home, and when that sense memory wore off (to be replaced by JEEBUSTAPDANCINGH….) I pretended I was slaloming and feeling the crisp and annoying snap of snow in my face.
*as my last almost-boyfriend learned, I will probably not do what you want if you yell at, argue or otherwise try to intimidate me. Placeholder: New Specimen of Crap-Man-Type-Itude story to come.