It was raining this morning,so I couldn't go out for my morning walk. Since the "significant other" had made his famous linguini with clam sauce, plus garlic bread, for dinner last night, it was imperative that I do something to reduce the calorie damage. I decided to go to the gym in our complex and maybe do a few miles on the stationary bike.
Apparently, Grove Isle has upgraded its equipment since the last time I set foot in the gym. For one thing, what used to look like a mechanical bike that you got on and started pedaling, now has enough controls to qualify as a NASA shuttle cockpit. The pretty young blonde on the machine next to me took pity after five minute when I still couldn't find the start button, much less set the speed and change the channel on the flat screen TV that persisted in listing how fast (slow) I was going, my heart rate and several other frightening numbers. If it asked for my age, I was going to bash it with one of my Nikes.
I managed to keep pedaling through a truly boring Today show interview with Elizabeth Edwards. I would have changed the channel but I still wasn't sure exactly how. The blonde was still calmly pedaling away at twice my miles per hour when I called it quits on that machine, took one look at the new elipticals and decided they would really be my undoing. At this point I was yearning for a nice brisk walk around the island where I'm in total control of my physical well being. This place was starting to scare me.
I marched myself into the next room where the machines looked more familiar, did a few sets on two or three of them, but I could tell I was losing heart. Even here there was a brand new machine that could easily qualify as a torture chamber in some medieval prison. Just looking at it made my latent claustrophobia kick in. I settled on several sets with wimpy 3 lb. weights, smiled brightly at anyone I saw, and headed for home.
Back in my apartment, I found both cats sound asleep in my bed. Next time it rains, I think I'll join them.
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Photo caption: Ginger's editorial comment on exercising.
I marched myself into the next room where the machines looked more familiar, did a few sets on two or three of them, but I could tell I was losing heart. Even here there was a brand new machine that could easily qualify as a torture chamber in some medieval prison. Just looking at it made my latent claustrophobia kick in. I settled on several sets with wimpy 3 lb. weights, smiled brightly at anyone I saw, and headed for home.
Back in my apartment, I found both cats sound asleep in my bed. Next time it rains, I think I'll join them.
# #
Photo caption: Ginger's editorial comment on exercising.
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