Sweatin' to the Oldies.

I am an occasional gym-goer.  If you average out my attendance in the past two years, I've gone once a week, but what this really means is that I turn into a juiced-up go-getter for two weeks or so and go nearly every day, and then taper off until my deltoids look like Flubber for a bit, and then drag my sorry butt to the gym once again.  It's a terrible thing, I know.  Which is why I am posting this on here, so everyone can know my shame, and I will hopefully then lessen the shame by finding a happy gym medium somewhere between unsalted butter and The Situation.

I am also a treadmill girl.  Most people say it's boring after like, 90 seconds, but for me it's time to not be staring at a casebook or grocery shopping or staring at a casebook or filling up my gas tank or setting a casebook on fire.  I get to zone out, and have thoughts like "wow, one of my ears is higher on my head than the other.  I never noticed that.  And now I get to spend the rest of my life noticing it YAYYY."  I don't generally have a certain time I need to do, or an amount I need to run.  I run until I can't anymore (sometimes that's a mile and a half, sometimes it's just the half), and then I walk.  When I feel okay again, I start running again.  And then when I can't, I walk, etc etc (COOL STORY, BRO)

I don't read.  I don't watch the TV (unless it's on Cash Cab because dang them gurlz get PAIIIID). I don't even listen to music.  I spend my 20, 30, 40 minutes getting gross and wondering why they made a Miss Congeniality 2.

And observing people, obvi!

And may I just say the one thing: I realize that this time is the time for the "New Year's Resolution people" to show up at gyms.  Seriously, y'all rock for doing that, and I hope it sticks, but it makes gyms more crowded, and I of all people understand that waiting for a treadmill is hardcore #firstworldproblems but also feels like the end of the frickin' WORLD when you have many things to do that day.  I don not WANT to wait, and my impatience could possibly end the world Mayan-style (that is, not at all, because I'm really not that mean).

My bigger issue with gym stuff is generally how I manage to get on the treadmill next to the offspring of Charles Atlas and a gazelle.  They start off their warmups at my "top speed" that I maintain for about 30 seconds at the end of my run to "power through" or whatever.  They all wear clothing that looks painted on, and painted on by Da Vinci.  I have turned into a bright pink version of the Canadian side of Niagara Falls and they look no different than when they started.  My steps sound Baby Elephant Walk-ish but less jaunty, and I am convinced that their feet are not actually making contact with the ground.

So, if you see me on a treadmill and my face is that nice mix of exhaustion and "I must look like a boulder that has grown legs" depression, give me a high-five.  But maybe wait like ten minutes for me to be able to lift my arm.