They opened a new exercise facility in my apartment complex and I was inspired. When I realized I was about to reach the first age that I would be tempted to lie about, I was motivated. When the bathroom scale reached an obscene number, I was hysterical, uh I mean determined.
I purchased some workout clothes that would hide as many of the reasons I needed to work out as possible, and asked my sister to go with me for moral support. She teeters between being inspiring and discouraging since she is 4 years older and can outrun me at a walk, but I needed all the help I could get.
I set what I thought were tiny little goals so I would feel accomplished and started my workout. But as my sister was jogging on the treadmill I was coming face to face with my mortality. One minute and 28 seconds after I started walking, the treadmill arrogantly slowed to cool down mode without even consulting me and the electronic readout said that I had reached my maximum heart rate. My tiny goals had suddenly become life threatening and visions of pacemakers flashed through my mind.
Did I get discouraged? Not at all! OK, my sister is going to read this, so yes.
Did I go back the next day? Yes! No, really I did.
Did I do any better? I went back the next day – enough said!
I have now been going back at least 4 times a week for a month, with my notebook in hand to chronicle every tiny improvement and keep myself motivated. Occasionally, that motivation becomes very important. Take today for example. I leaned over to pick up my pen which had fallen out of the cup holder to try and catch it before it rolled off the end of the treadmill. Realizing immediately that I was about to follow it, I popped back up catching the corner of my eye on my notebook. It just happened to be propped up on top of the machine near the emergency stop button. Let’s just say my exit was less than graceful but I am not convinced it warranted the guffaw that came from the guy two machines down.
Am I going back tomorrow? Well, I am inching closer to my age of denial, farther from my obscene weight and my seemingly life threatening goals have been reached and exceeded without the help of a pacemaker – enough said!
I set what I thought were tiny little goals so I would feel accomplished and started my workout. But as my sister was jogging on the treadmill I was coming face to face with my mortality. One minute and 28 seconds after I started walking, the treadmill arrogantly slowed to cool down mode without even consulting me and the electronic readout said that I had reached my maximum heart rate. My tiny goals had suddenly become life threatening and visions of pacemakers flashed through my mind.
Did I get discouraged? Not at all! OK, my sister is going to read this, so yes.
Did I go back the next day? Yes! No, really I did.
Did I do any better? I went back the next day – enough said!
I have now been going back at least 4 times a week for a month, with my notebook in hand to chronicle every tiny improvement and keep myself motivated. Occasionally, that motivation becomes very important. Take today for example. I leaned over to pick up my pen which had fallen out of the cup holder to try and catch it before it rolled off the end of the treadmill. Realizing immediately that I was about to follow it, I popped back up catching the corner of my eye on my notebook. It just happened to be propped up on top of the machine near the emergency stop button. Let’s just say my exit was less than graceful but I am not convinced it warranted the guffaw that came from the guy two machines down.
Am I going back tomorrow? Well, I am inching closer to my age of denial, farther from my obscene weight and my seemingly life threatening goals have been reached and exceeded without the help of a pacemaker – enough said!
