Wednesday, 10 April 2013

Damn, I was going to go to the gym!!

I look at it the other way, if I tell you I am going to the Gym, then maybe I will.
Well, since the day Natasha tried to get my groove back, my dive into a healthy lifestyle has been a bit shallow.  I have been finding any excuse to sit proudly on my butt and feel there was something else pressing, to which I must attend.  I feel at times like Liz Lemon in 30 Rock who declares with every  opportunity:   "darn I was going to go to the gym".  Admittedly, I think I am in a bit of a funk, but I am going to try to run my way out of it.  Well, maybe walk my way out of it, since again, no one is actually chasing me.

I have had great intentions though. I have my gym bag packed and ready for Headwaters Racket Club.  I appropriately have a squash racket in the car. I have even remembered my lock combination (it is written on the back of the lock- speaking to my foresight and my trust of human nature).  I am revved up.  I have checked the schedule and I have planned.  When I think of my lessons in motivational change in healthcare. I see that I was pleasantly in denial for a while. I moved into contemplation, which is figuratively represented as sitting on a fence.  How appropriate, but I was actually sitting on a beach.  I am now moving from the contemplative stage of change to "Action".   I am in the Action Stage of Action.  I am working toward maintenance.  I want to reach this stage before Bridget moves home and kicks my butt at competitive Zumba.


So the actual trip to the gym eventually came when we got back from Barbados last week.  Derek and I made our way to the treadmills.  We couldn't find any treadmills together, so I listened to the news.  I had no idea how much is going on out there in the great big world.  I found out about Tartan Day.  I found out about the legacy of Margaret Thatcher.  This activity thing is amazing.  I am going to be so smart.  I will be all svelte and tanned and I will make random comments to people like "the long term repercussions of Thatcherism include..."

The next time we went, a respectable 2 days later, we did get to treadmills together.  Now, when Derek  and I try to walk side by side in the real world, for example, walking Crazy Dog, Derek meanders.  He walks like he drives, very slowly and carefully.  I say I appreciate this when he is driving, but admittedly, it makes me crazy.  Now when we are on foot, it is not only frustrating, it is really pointless to be so slow.  Derek may disagree, but there is no imposed speed limit while walking.  What I have found on the treadmill, is that we are very compatible.  Derek meanders.  I saunter.  He tells me about his day.  I nod without missing a step.  I am sure people see us and think we are so cute, these 2 pudgy people going for a stroll, chatting away.  What they don't realize is that we are actually racing.

So I will keep going  to the gym.  I am going to start slowly and then I will build up the frequency and the intensity, until I break a sweat.  If you are reading this and you see me at the gym, give me a thumbs up. It means I am dragging myself out of a funk and continuing to get back my groove.

I am trying reelly hard not to judge the speling acuraccy  of this.  
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