I went to the gym today.
EVERYONE, STAY CALM! THERE IS NO REASON TO PANIC!
This is not one of the signs of the Apocalypse. That would be having my entire house completely clean from top to bottom. The day that happens, dump your diet Coke and start repenting like crazy.
My son has this wacky notion that someone who spends 12 hours a day at the computer really should move around a little from time to time, if for no other reason than they otherwise begin to take on chair-like characteristics. Only yesterday I asked my husband to check my wheels for rust, as I couldn't seem to move across the tile without picking up my feet. Imagine my surprise to discover I don't, technically, have wheels. Nor am I equipped with vinyl armrests. I know, I was as shocked as you.
So anyway, my fitness fanatic of a firstborn dragged me out the door to his temple-away-from-the-temple, the YMCA. It was tough getting me to the car; I kept trying to roll.
Now, I'm not saying it's been a while since I worked out, but the last time I was at the gym, the hot style in workout attire was primarily a saber-toothed tiger shift with mastodon leg warmers. Realizing I needed something to wear made after the Bronze age, we made a quick stop at Target, whose guts I now hate.
I hate Target's guts because they have no respect for the XLs of the world. I picked up a couple of pairs of men's basketball shorts (in Large, because it turns out Target's abuse does not extend to men), and then moved on to the women's fitness department, which apparently caters to broomsticks in running shoes. I picked up a nice little zip-up hoodie, size XL, and tried it on.
I'm no fashionista, but I don't think your clothes are supposed to shriek in terror just because you're trying to introduce one side of the zipper to the other. This wussie hoodie, however, had not received the memo. So I peeled it off before someone alerted security, and tried on the XXL. This one merely whined about life being too short to waste it wrapped around the likes of my curvy self, so I just smacked it and told it what I did to sassy mouthed gym clothes and bought the damn thing.
(WalMart, for all its faults, does XL right. You could keep a Vokswagen warm in their XL hoodies. Circuses save a fortune on canvas just by sticking a tent pole in WalMart's XXL Comfort T's.)
After a quick dash into the loo to change from Frump to, well, Frump in New Basketball Shorts, David and I headed across the street to the Y. (MCA. Not B_U. That's a little further away. Like 400 miles...)
After some discussion with the very sweet girl at the counter over whether or not I had been issued the convenient key ring membership card (I reminded her that the last time I was there Wilma Flintstone dropped me off so, no, probably don't have that newfangled jobbie) my son and I made our way to the workout room.
Goodness! How far we've come in torture chamber technology! I'm telling you, there was stuff in that place that would make a grown Inquisitor weep into his iron maiden. I'm pretty sure this was what John was referring to in those little-known verses in Revelation:
"And, lo, there were great silver beasts, with wings of steel and this kind of rubbery grip stuff, and arms of chain and rope, and legs of stone, and these little pictures everywhere that I couldn't quite make out.
"And the beasts didst both attract and torment the souls therein. Yea, their tortured cries and grunts and rather dramatic exhalations didst fill the whole earth, and didst, frankly, start to get on my nerves forthwith. I meanest, we gettist it already. We havest eyes. We canst see that thou art buff.
"So savest thou thy huffing and puffing."
Gravitating as I do toward anything that lets me sit while I pretend to do something healthy, I headed for the recumbent bicycles. After depositing my novel, my water bottle, my towel, my new workout bag - which my son called a "hard core exercise purse" because that's the kind of lippy kids I'm raising - my phone, my wallet, my keys, my son's phone, his wallet - dang! I thought I cinched this blasted thing closed - on or near the bike, I settled in for 30 minutes of entertaining reading. Oh, and I think my legs did something or other while I was there. I don't know for sure. Perhaps I should have followed those instructions more closely and selected a fitness level higher than "deceased".
At any rate, it was the most comfortable workout I've had since the night I spent on the internet catching up on all the "30 Rock" episodes I'd missed and eating peanut butter M&Ms.
Of course, the fun wasn't over. My son had plans for my biceps. AND my triceps. After clarifying that these were not, in fact, types of dinosaur, but were actually standard issue on most humans, he led me to the weight lifting department.
David insisted I stretch first, and rather impatiently informed me that the strain I had put on my new hoodie didn't count. So, stretch, stretch, limber, limber, topple, topple as the personal trainer from the netherworld - my own child, no less - handed me two 7,000 pound weights and ordered me to do, I can't remember exactly, something like 15 wraps in sips of trees. Sets of threes? Reps? It doesn't matter, I was unconscious for most of that part. The effort of not grunting like the neanderthals over on John's Apocalyptic Beasts had blocked all oxygen flow to my brain.
However, something must have happened in that part of the room, because I am now paralyzed from the triceratops down. That kid is so grounded.
Finally, DeNae's Field Trip Into the Seventh Circle of Hell wrapped itself up. I dutifully located the paper towels and disinfectant spray and went to work de-grossifying the weight bench. You never heard such squawking! I suppose I should have checked to see if someone else had started using it. But honestly, who lays down in someone else's sweat? 'S what you get, far as I'm concerned.
So after a stop to refuel - read "pick up a gallon of Diet Coke", I am now safely home and back in my natural habitat. And for all my whining, I do feel a lot better for having worked out. I've loosened up in some places and tightened up in others, and am generally feeling much healthier and more fit already.
In fact, you can hardly hear my wheels squeak at all!