So I went to the gym today. I go to LA Fitness, or La Fitness! It’s French! as my friend Mark says. Best if you can muster up a really gooey French accent while saying it.
So as all both of you might recall, last time I went to the gym, and the time before that, it was somewhat less than a rousing success in the sense that I exercised well and thoroughly. It was a rousing success in that I went there in the first place, but that’s not exactly good blogfodder. I mean, who enjoys reading boring accounts of perfectly satisfying gym excursions? Nobody, that’s who.
So anyway, this time I hit the treadmill first. (It turns out that the treadmill is so boring, and makes my feet cramp up, that I’m reconsidering the elliptical. Also boring but maybe less brutal on my feets. We shall see.) Anyway, 20 minutes of abject boredom got my heart rate into at least a respectable range.
Then, with a heavy sigh and grim sense of foreboding, I climbed up onto the DeathMaster and fired up the mp3. My goal: to log 20 minutes without a) falling off, b) requiring emergency services, and/or c) beating the machine into a pulp with my mighty, enraged fists because it’s too hard *sob*.
A realistic subgoal, I felt, was to not touch the pause button until at least ten minutes had passed. I imagined I might pause it at that point, for the stupid one minute it allows, and perhaps again at 5. And I imagined that I might be hating life so very much by the 5 minutes to go mark that I would be desperately plotting to warp forward in time or something.
What actually happened was that I slogged, and trudged, and plodded, and heaved, and struggled. Also, there was sweating. Soooo much sweating. But BY GRABTHAR’S HAMMER I made it.
As I approached ten minutes remaining I thought, Oh what the heck, let’s shoot for nine minutes. Obviously the exercise-induced insanity was setting in at this point.
Then at nine minutes some devilish little inner voice purred, Bet you can’t make it to seven minutes. And I thought, BLOW ME, INNER DEMON.
And at seven minutes the same voice prodded me to shoot for five. And then three. And then I was done.