"Oh my gosh. I'm so weak. I don't think I can push this weight any higher..." Thankfully, I go to the gym around 8:00 p.m., otherwise I'd have had a gym full of fitness buffs watching me fail instead of just the married couple and the two random chicks who are usually at the gym the same time as me each night.
Back in the middle of February, I found myself stuck inside on yet another sub-zero night. I sat on my bed and looked at the clock on my computer before sighing. "Ugh, another day wasted." Another day had gone by where I went to work, came home, ate dinner, and then wasted my night watching Netflix while I surfed the internet. It was that same night that I decided that I was going to find a way to get to know my community, make friends with the people in my community, and basically just get myself out of the house more than, well, no nights each week.
Some of the activities I have chosen have been purely for pleasure: I went on a "night hike" at a local MetroPark, where I got to watch beavers and see wood frogs, which can survive being frozen solid throughout the winter. True story. Some of my endeavors serve the greater good: I have volunteered twice at the local food bank packing boxes for a supplemental food program. Last week I moved 1,500 lbs of beans in under three hours! Still other ventures are borderline torture: I joined the gym. This is where my spectacular display of weakness occurred a few weeks ago.
After two weeks of simply using the elliptical and treadmill, I decided to start playing around with the weight machines. Women have weaker upper body strength, right? Well, that might be the case now, but I was going to make sure that I wasn't just another statistic. (Have I ever explained to you that my pride will eventually be my downfall? It will be.)
So there I was, machine number one. Pretty easy, just pull down on a bar that has a couple of weights attached to the other end of the pulley. Damn. I'm pretty strong. I'm pulling like, 25 lbs, and I haven't worked out since I left Martin's Creek. I'm pretty awesome. Ten reps finished (ladies and gents, I realize how lame these initial workouts were. Remember, I have a pride problem). On to the next machine, which is kinda like a rowing machine. Another 25 lbs, another ten reps done. I am so strong. I can see my muscles moving under my shirt sleeve as I work with the weights. I'm going to have superior upper body strength in no time.
Last machine. Lifting weight over my head? You got it. Especially since they're not free weights, I have all the confidence in the world. WEAK! SO WEAK! What? This is only 12.5 lbs? My muscles are screaming for mercy. Forget ten, five reps is really all I need to do, right? I'll probably tear my rotator cuff, just like everyone in my mom's family if I keep this up. WEAK! SO WEAK! What is that only number two? What the heck? WEAK! SO WEAK! I am going to have to take all the aspirin when I get home if I want to be able to move tomorrow. WEAK! SO WEAK! Okay, one more. Just one...WEAK! SO VERY WEAK!
I let the weight rest gently in the start position and got up to clean up the machine. Now sore and slightly embarrassed, I glance around the room. Nope, everyone seems to be engrossed with Dancing With the Stars. I'm safe from their laughter tonight. Phew.
Now, four more weeks have passed and I'm slightly less weak than when I joined the gym. But if you're ever in Logan and want to see a comedy show, come watch me not be able to lift weights over my head. I promise it'll be one of the most hilarious things you've seen in a long time!
P.S.- Sheryl- But dontcha know, that it hurts me so, to say goodbyyyyyye to yoooooouuuuu? Wish I didn't have to go, no no no noooooooooooooooooo (You're welcome)
I'm outside your door right now! Prepare!
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