I realized the extreme of this obsession at 2 a.m. Monday morning as sweat dripped into my eye and down my chin, and as my heart rate reached the "performance zone", while I ran on the treadmill and watched infomercials.
Is it wrong to love being that sweaty at 2 a.m.?
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I am to give Sarah (Thursday's Mystery Meat) her due credit for this: (but we all know better ;) )
Last month Gold's Gym was offering discounted memberships to employees at TPI. Though still in great shape from when I was on the varsity chess team in high school, I decided it was a good idea to go ahead and chain myself to yet another contract of some form. I went to the little room where all the big men were and signed myself up for self improvement and an all encompassing obsessive compulsive disorder.
Day 1.
They suggest I keep this "exercise diary" to chart my progress this week. Started the morning at 6:00 AM. Tough to get up, but worth it when I arrived at the health club and my new Gold's Gym boyfriend was waiting for me on the elliptical machine. He's something of a god, with brown hair and biceps the size of my upper thighs. "Is it possible," I asked myself, "that an act as simple as signing away the next two years of my life could lead me to my one true love?" He worked away at his ubermasculine body as I stared and tried to keep my balance a few machines away. I checked my pulse a few times as the woman next to me peeked at my numbers. She seemed a little alarmed that it was so high, but then again my gym boyfriend was very near by.
Day 2.
Took a whole 1 litre of Dr. Pepper to get me out the door, but I made it. New Trainer Boyfriend had me lie on my back and push this heavy iron bar up into the air. Then he put weights on it, for heaven's sake! Legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made it the full 1/2 mile. Muscles feel GREAT.
Day 3.
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the tooth brush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I am certain that I have developed a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was okay as long as I didn't try to steer. I parked on top of a Volkswagen. (Wait a second...) Trainer boyfriend was a little impatient with me and said my screaming was bothering the other club members. The treadmill hurt my chest so I did the stair monster. Why would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by the invention of elevators? Trainer boyfriend told me regular exercise would make me live longer. I can't imagine anything worse.
Day 4.
Trainer boyfriend was waiting for me with his vampire teeth in a full snarl. I can't help it if I was half an hour late, it took me that long just to tie my shoes. He wanted me to lift dumbbells. Not a chance, TB (trainer boyfriend). The word "dumb" must be in there for a reason. I hid in the women's locker room until he sent some skank named Tiffany after me. As punishment he made me try the rowing machine. It sank.
Day 5.
I hate TB more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. If there was any part of my body not in extreme pain I would hit him with it. He thought it would be a good idea to work on my triceps. Well I have news for you TB I don't have triceps. And if you don't want dents in the floor don't hand me any barbells. I refuse to accept responsibility for the damage, YOU went to sadist school, YOU are to blame. The treadmill flung me back into a science teacher, which hurt like crazy. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like a music teacher, or social studies?
Day 6.
Got TB's message on my answering machine, wondering where I am. I lacked the strength to use the TV remote so I watched eleven straight hours of the weather channel.
Day 7.
Well, that's the week. Thank goodness that's over. Maybe next time I will sign myself up for something a little more fun, like free teeth drilling at the dentist's.
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