I can't walk upright. Not completely, at least. Though, realistically, I expected worse. I finally broke down and began working out again two days ago. And my body is sore in that way that only results from a two two-and-a-half okay, FINE three year habit of slouching, stress eating, and generally resting on one's genetic predisposition to get veeeery gradually fatter, rather than the immediately paying the price for one's degenerate behavior.
But the tax collector did finally arrive for her dues, and since I've neither the money nor the emotional fortitude for a whole new wardrobe to fit my whole new ass, the best option was to work it off. And I guess there is that whole blah blah "health", blah "history of heart attack" blah blah "don't forget the high cholesterol" bit to think of. But come on, my vanity is far more effective a motivator. Sadly.
One of those teeny open-all-night gyms opened in our "town". It's just five miles down the road and affordable. Plus, you don't have to do a contract, so if we don't have the money for it next month, we can skip it for a while.
Wednesday was my first day to go in. I did about a quarter mile on the treadmill to warm up, stretched for as long as I possibly could, then tried to recreate a cardio/free-weight workout that I used to love. It went pretty well, considering my knowledge of gym equipment post 1982 (hey, I've always worked out in out-dated facilities) is sorely (punny!) lacking. In fact, I even considered signing up for my free training session in order to learn what the kids are doing these days on those there fandangled machines. Notice I said "considered".
While I was there, I asked the owner if she knew where the high school kids ran track (I know - sounds creepy, right?) because I'd been the football field and could not help but notice that there was no track. She pointed to the only other human in the place and told me that he was a coach and could point me in the right direction.
He did. It turns out that they built the track a few years ago at a new site which was intended for a new high school. Only the funding fell through. So now there's a track with no stands or plumbing or buildings of any other sort in the middle of no where. It's a genius set-up, if you ask me, combining my love of sprinting with my desire to be away from other humans.
So yesterday, I went. And I took the girls. And some jump ropes and a soccer ball, and some sunscreen. Since the track is off the beaten trail (that's no metaphor, folks, there really IS a beaten trail), the school district hasn't bothered to put away the hurdles. I cannot tell you how EXCITED I was to see this! I love hurdle workouts. Not running over them, but doing this whole series of exercises with a run (10) of them all pushed together. It's the fastest way to get all my favorite parts in shape, and it doesn't really feel like hard work to me.
The girls chased me around and Hannah played on overturned "merdles", and they crawled through them behind me as I did my exercises. Since there was only one other person there (a lady doing some jogging), I felt completely relaxed letting them run all over. It was great!
Last night I got up to pee and felt that weird, crippling soreness that I remember so fondly from my collegiate track days. I literally hobbled to the bathroom. But I also smiled, because I actually like this part. And the idea of getting back into shape sounds really, really appealling. Yesterday's time at the track also gave me a glimmer of hope that I could actually get fit while hanging out with the girls. And that they might enjoy it. And that they might see working out as a fun thing to do. Of course, I'm not above being hopeful that they might turn out to be kick-ass athletes in their own right, too. You know - if they wanna. No pressure.
So if you happen to see me today, bend on over and say hi. I may not be able to see your face, but trust me, I'm in a good mood and I'll appreciate the extra effort.
