Thank goodness I was too tired on Thursday to write because I would have been a 24 karat, grade A total bitch when I posted.
I was in a mood. The weather was horrible. It was snowing and blowing and it was cold. I went to the gym anyway and I was probably ranting the entire trip there. Then, when I finally got to the gym the parking lot was full. Full, I tell you! There’s a damn blizzard outside and everyone’s first thought is, “I’ve got to get to the gym!” I fully understood the irony of my rant because I was at the gym in this weather as well; however, I excused my own behavior by reasoning that I was only there under duress. My word for the year was change and so I had to be at the gym. Believe me, I was sorely tempted to change my word to stagnant.
It didn’t get better. I once again failed at my run. I ran the first 3 minutes. I did the 90 second walk. I even managed to get through the 5 minute run and the 2 1/2 minute walk. Then things fell apart. Well, technically things started to go bad when I almost flew off the treadmill. Yes, that was fun. Apparently I was not running fast enough. I usually try to stay right up at the front but occasionally I’ll let myself get a little further back. I guess I was getting a little too far back because my heels felt the conveyer belt rolling under which meant I was at the end. Oh shit! I had to speed up. Because let’s face it, even though it’s Planet Fitness and it’s a judgement free zone where they serve pizza and cupcakes and have open buckets of Tootsie Rolls, when you fall off the treadmill people are going to laugh. Or at least think, “What the hell is wrong with that person? Who falls off a treadmill?”
Anyway, I survived with my dignity intact. Got ready to run the next 3 minute run. Couldn’t do it. I think I made it 2 minutes and then I walked. I walked until it was time to do the five minute run. I lasted about a minute and a half. Maybe 2 1/2 minutes. I started to run again at the 1 minute 48 second point, hoping I could finish it out, but alas, I stopped with a mere 26 seconds left, I believe.
I was so pissed! And dejected. The mobster is walking at 4 mph and running at 6 mph. He did all 3 days and at that point I had failed 2 out of 3. I was seriously ready to call it quits and tell him I wasn’t going to run in April.
This was me: I can’t even run five fucking minutes and he’s ready to run a goddamn marathon already!
I told you. I was in a rant-y, horrible mood. I was also still having flashbacks of the previous weekend when the three of us went ice skating. I hadn’t been on skates since I was 16. Picasso took back to the ice like a fish to water and lo and behold, my mobster was out there skating like a pro. I’m clinging to the railing as I go around. My feet are killing me and the staff assistant comes up to me to make sure I’m not having a heart attack and am ready to collapse right then and there on the ice. Meanwhile Picasso and the mobster are throwing triple axels. Okay, they weren’t really doing triple axels but they were both skating backwards like it was no big deal and Picasso could still do his hockey skate stop.
Next up, I was pissed off about the whole “judgement free zone” bullshit. Not because I think there needs to be a judging zone but because there are very few people there who need to worry about anyone judging them. I think the total is two- me and one other person. Most of the other people are walking around in their teeny tiny tights and a sports bra as their only top. I don’t begrudge them their beautiful, fit bodies but I don’t think many people are wandering around thinking, “What’s fatso doing here?” when they see them either. What do I know? I was a bitter, horrible, ranting lunatic that night.
To top it off I had to stop at the grocery store on my way home because my son, who at age 17 does not drive, informed me he was out of lunch meat and we had no milk. I was exhausted. I had failed once again. It was still cold and snowing. Plus, I was sweaty and smelly.
I waited around until the people in the deli stopped talking to each other and noticed me so I could get Picasso’s turkey. Then I had to walk all the way to the back to get milk. At that point I was pretty convinced they deliberately placed the milk at the back of the store because they felt milk drinkers were a bunch of fat asses that needed to walk a few extra steps.
I did make it home and you should all be relieved to know that once I had my fish sticks and Stouffer’s mac and cheese I settled down quite nicely.
Anyway, all that to say I went back to the gym on Saturday. I drug my feet and I was not looking forward to it, but I went. And I was successful today. I ran all 4 legs. I did not even come close to falling off the treadmill. I felt good. I felt victorious. I was really proud of myself. I saw I had 2 minutes and 48 second left of the 5 minute run and it was tempting to quit but I told myself if I could hold out a little longer it would only be 2 minutes left and then only one minute. Once I got to one minute I could finish it out. Finish it out, I did. So, instead of repeating Week 4 like I was going to I’m going to go ahead and and start Week 5 on Monday.
I guess unless it’s a field sobriety test you can pick yourself up as many times as you need.