Catch Me If You Can!

Tonight, at the gym, I ran. 

I don't know what came over me.  I was not forced into this strange activity, though I have always claimed that being chased is the only way I would ever be found running. 

What happened to me?

As I sit here eating left over birthday cake (to stave off the ill-effects of burning all those excess calories), I think I've narrowed it down to a few possibilities:

This Sunday at while sharing responsibilities in the nursery with a teen-aged gal, I discovered that we, she and I, were wearing the same brand of lotion.  This little nugget, tucked into my psyche has given me no end of comfort about the fading decade of my thirties even in the face of Kate's constant attention, of late, to the "cracks in your face."  The "lotion situation" could have been the cause of my sudden speed.

Or...
I use my time on the treadmill to catch up on magazines that I enjoy reading...most of them are about cooking.  As I looked at each beautifully photographed culinary masterpiece, I was reminded of all of the culinary reasons that I so desperately needed to be on the treadmill in the first place.  These thoughts led me to remember the massive amounts of Easter candy I had consumed the day before.  As I was pondering the Peeps, and the guacamole laden lunch I had enjoyed with my family earlier in the day, I looked out the gym window to see...McDonald's, home of my favorite sweet, sweet tea.  Sins of the past are powerful motivation.

Or...

It could just be, that my iPod made me do it.  I never go to the gym without it.  I am a podcast junkie.  I download my favorite "shows" and listen to them while I walk.  On any given walk to no where, I might be listening to a wonderful podcast about books and reading called "Books On the Nightstand", or very possibly I'll be listening to a cooking and eating podcast called "The Splendid Table".  Tonight, my podcast of choice was "The Best of Mike and Mike" from ESPN radio and television.  I was eager to hear what those two sports guys had to say about our Final Four-bound Mountaineers. 

Unfortunately, way before their conversation turned to college basketball, my legs turned into cramping, pain-shooting extensions of my body.  At just about that same moment, the treadmill went in to "hill mode" and I let go of the treadmill hand grip just long enought to switch the iPod from podcasting to music, FAST music to get me up the hill. 

I need to pause here and explain that I share an iTunes account with the children.  They are much like their father in their music choices, save a few.  I need also to explain that I, over a year into iPod ownership, am still a bit confused about how to get exactly what I want from the iTunes account into my iPod.  Just when I think I have the skill mastered, something happens to prove my ineptitude.

When I chose my peppy music I was pleased to hear a selection from the kids' playlist by Toby Mac, followed by a group called Tenth Avenue North.  The next song to spur me on was one of my own by Bart Millard.  The next song to hit my ears was "Fly With Me" by none other than the Jonas Brothers.  I have never intentionally downloaded anything by this band of singing brothers, the rhythm was right, however, so I kept on steppin'. 

That's when it happened.  Before I knew it I was reaching up to the speed button, increasing the speed, and then my feet, one at a time, left the belt. 

I was RUNNING and it felt good.  My legs uncramped, and I was still breathing.  The world wasn't ending.  "Fly with me..." sang the boys in my ear and so I did.  Mind you, I never let go of the handles, so I probably looked more like a woman running while pushing a grocery cart than a graceful gazelle. But, I did it.  I ran for at least 1/8th of a mile! 

Not much I know, but I repeated this great feat two times.  It's a start.  What those two itty, bitty bursts of "speed" did changed my language.  Later that evening, while in conversation with my Man, I'd drop phrases like, "While I was running..." or "Tomorrow, when I go for a run...".  Somehow, my Man (who runs between and three and five miles a few times a week) kept from laughing me out of the room!

I look forward to returning to the treadmill to try my new trick again and I'll have lots of inspiration.  We've another birthday to celebrate this weekend and it involves a large ice cream cake.  I'll keep my "running" shoes close!!

Walking, Wondering, & Wishing

I went today at lunchtime.  Other days, I get there at about 9 in the morning.  Over the summer, I didn't go at all because swimming lessons made it inconvenient, but as I am deep into the gray days of winter, I'm finding it necessary to make my trips more of a priority.

I am, of course, talking about going to the gym.  I usually get to go exercise two to three times a week and it always interests me that the ages and stages of my fellow gym-mates change with the time of day.

If I go between 8:30 and 10:00 am, I find myself working out with the retirement set.  When I elect to exercise at lunch-time I am surrounded by students from the local colleges.  Each "workout group" creates its own atmosphere of fitness. 

Exercising with the retirees means that usually, I am the youngest, though not necessarily the fittest, person in the room.  I like that.  It is difficult these days to find a room in which I can make such a claim.  I notice when I exercise in the morning with this fine set of fifty, sixty and seventy somethings, that they are very well dressed for the occasion.  Once, I even saw a woman walking on the treadmill with her purse on her arm!  I was very impressed with her coordination and form.

Sometimes, I am a bit lazy find it necessary to sleep in a bit in the mornings and therefore I exercise on my Man's lunch hour with the co-eds.  I really ought to get up early, no matter what, because at the gym during lunchtime, I am usually the oldest person in the room and definitely not the fittest.  I always have on the most clothing and am terribly grateful for every inch of it.  The treadmill on which I briskly walk, is flanked on either side by blonds with bouncy ponytails who are doing amazing impersonations of gazelles as they run.  Among this group, I am most often the best sweat-er.

Please tell me when, WHEN do the thirty-something moms go to the gym?  I think I wanna exercise with them if you don't mind.  Surely there exist more like me, who find it necessary to their sanity to get to the gym.  I need some similarly "fluffy" ladies beside me on the treadmill who are coming to terms with the baby belly that remains, but who want to be healthier in body and stronger in mind. 

I want to tread beside someone who, like me, believes that 40 minutes of walking and sweating will erase the memory and consequence of two-fisting Skittles the night before.  I wanna walk beside of a woman who is thinking about what she's gonna serve for dinner while she's trying to walk off the cinnamon roll or two she ate for breakfast.

I don't know when the "Mom's Hour" is, I may never know.  Maybe my peers are in the Zumba classes or maybe they are Spinning.  Until I find them, I've decided to rise early and hop on the treadmill between the Eds and Ethels instead of sleeping in and finding myself trying to match strides with the Ashleys and Ambers!