I stood frozen in front of my desk Wednesday, staring at my minivan from the window of my second-floor office.
I don’t feel like going. I feel like writing. I feel like not changing my clothes. I feel like not getting sweaty. I feel like eating.
My mind rested for a couple of beats. Then: But I do feel like reading my book. I grabbed my keys, wallet, phone and Zune, and ran down the stairs.
Workout saved by a book.
I’m almost done with Bitter is the New Black. I’ve been reading it forever because a) I read too many books at once, and b) I usually choose to read this one on cross training (aka stationary bike) days. It was the only thing that got me to the Secret Gym on Wednesday.
That hesitation, however, put me a little behind schedule. Finally, I got on the bike and set it on random. It shot up to the highest level. Right away, I regretted the setting. It was so hard to push the pedals! The tops of my thighs burned. I just tried to ignore it by letting my mind drift to Chicago and into Jen Lancaster’s crazy life.
Somehow, I managed to finish and then enjoyed a 5 minute cool down. During the end of my workout, a woman I’d never seen before came into the Secret Gym in street clothes clutching a yellow, plastic grocery bag. I could hear the crinkling of the bag behind me, but could not see what she was doing and didn’t want to be rude by turning my head completely around. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that she got on the elliptical.
As I left the gym, though, I noticed the bag sat flattened on the ground with a pair shoes on top of it. Next to those items, a backpack. I saw her in the mirror working out on the elliptical still in her street clothes! Now that’s hard core.
In the evening, I picked up T Junior and we came home. The usual routine. But I wanted to get my strength work done early because I was tired and knew I might skip it later. I changed my clothes and then got on the exercise ball for 90 (3 sets of 30) crunches.
I was coming up for my first one when a small finger stuck me in my right eye. “Ow!”
I heard giggling.
I yelled, “Two!” and started to come up again when I was hooked like a fish in my eye hole. “Ouch, T Junior. That hurts Mommy.”
I finished my first set. “What’s wrong?” Usually T Junior likes to exercise with me.
I realized I wasn’t going to get my strength workout done early, but I had to finish the crunches. I already started! I began my next set.
Screaming and crying. Flailing.
I stopped at 30. “You’re being silly. What’s wrong?”
Crying. Rolling around on the floor.
I began my last set and then I figured it out while I was doing crunches. I bet he wants to get on the exercise ball. Last week, I let T Junior sit on the exercise ball and I bounced him and then rolled him off. He wanted to roll off again and again. Apparently, falling off of things is fun.
So, Wednesday, after my crunches were done, I put him up on the ball and he immediately tried to roll off. I let him do it two more times before I’d had enough. I suggested we play something else and that started the crying and flailing again, so I walked away to go make dinner.
A minute later a Chinook helicopter was flying over our house (they must have a new route because they go over once a day lately). I ran for the sliding door to the back porch and told T Junior to come see.
But then he didn’t want to come inside. I tried to coax him in a few times, then gave up. Okay, whatever, dude.
I let him play outside in a shirt and jeans in 45-degree weather while I defrosted broccoli in the microwave. I did a set of lunges.
Another set of lunges.
Take broccoli out, put leftovers in the microwave.
Last set of lunges.
Then I did curtsies while dinner warmed. T Junior still didn’t want to come inside, but as soon as I put his plate in front of his chair, he came running. Just like dogs do!
After dinner, we went upstairs for his bath. While he played his version of Letterman’s “Will It Float?” I did standing leg lifts, kick backs and cross overs.
By the time he went to bed, all I had left was arms. I decided to pass on Dumb and Dumber, though, and did 3 sets of 12 push ups instead. Yay me!
My reward: the new season of my favorite guilty pleasure! America’s Next Top Model, baby! (Even though Tyra is annoying, I can’t look away. She’s like a train wreck or a set of teeth with spinach stuck in them.)