Shaping Up

My husband and I have decided to try to get in shape.  I have been trying off and on over the years, losing and then gaining the weight back.  The most exercise my husband has gotten was probably the one time, a long time ago, when we tried to do yoga to a video and he complained and farted throughout the whole session.  Needless to say, this is going to be a challenge.

There is a small, but nice, little fitness building in our subdivision.  There are two treadmills, two stationary bikes, an elliptical machine, weight bench and compact machine for doing leg presses, etc.  One wall is a giant mirror.  We'll come back to the usefullness of this feature later.

We have decided to start the Couch to 5K program.  I have no intention of running a 5K...and honestly, the last time I tried to run was in high school when I wanted to be all cool and join Cross Country to be with my friends.  That quickly ended with the first practice when I barely made it half way through and felt like I was going to collapse.  I wheezed through a massive asthma attack and told my friends that I think I'm going to pass on joining a sport.  So, why I decided to start running is beyond me.  I guess just to prove to myself that I could.  Bruce has also decided to run...but I don't think that I inspired him...I think a coworker, who has done the program, has pretty much pressured him into running.  And so the journey begins.

The program is for beginners...you alternate between walking and jogging for about twenty minutes.  As I run, I feel strong...I tell myself, "you can do this...it won't be long before you will be able to wear a bikini."  Not that I probably would ever wear a bikini...but...you know...I could.  Then, I look over at the mirrored wall.  My face is red.  Sweat is dripping down my face.  The lovely muffin top that I thought my workout pants somehow held in...is flopping up and down in time to Weezer's "Buddy Holly" which is playing loudly through my ear buds (which keep wanting to fall out as I jog.)  Now, I can take this image and let it affect me in two ways:  I can be thoroughly disgusted, and lose hope.  Or, and what I prefer to do, I can ingrain that image into my mind and tell myself that this is why I am running.  So that in time, I will look over and see a red-faced, sweaty, sexy person running on the treadmill.  Well, you know...fit person.  I don't suppose red-faced and sweaty will every really be sexy.

My husband is a week behind me in the program, and does not have work-out clothes.  He goes to the gym in his Burger King fleece pajama pants.  He also takes the older two kids with him, which provides a challenge within itself.  The other night he came home looking irritated.  Apparently one child goes from one machine to the next, not knowing how to really use them, and constantly asks questions.  The other child thinks he is some sort of extreme athlete and tries to prove he is the master of the machines.  Apparently that night he was trying to break a record for running a mile.  He had the treadmill set on nearly the highest speed, as he dodged his sister's questions.  The last question, which was something like, "hey...shouldn't you be holding onto the handles when you run?," was the distraction that ended in disaster as he turned to look at her...and fell.  Luckily he was fine, but the night did not end well as it was "obviously" his sister's fault that he fell on the treadmill. 

This is why I run alone. 

Hopefully we will actually continue with the program...with few casualties.  I did buy Bruce some running shoes for his birthday...perhaps I should have bought him some running shorts, too.   The Burger King pants are a casualty on their own...