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9 january 2001
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the stairmaster is not your friend
January is a yucky time to exercise. I can't imagine being a New Year's Resolutioneer in this matter. "After nearly a lifetime of utter useless lumpdom, I'm going to miraculously health-kick my way into the new millennium in the highly inspiring month of January. Yay, me! I say grab your Doritoes and hang in there until March. You've waited this long. Celebrate sloth. It's difficult enough to drag my patoot to the Y, and I've been fairly dedicated to the whole physical fitness thing most of my life. Between the cold mornings, the dark evenings, and the cozy down comforter, the only thing that gets me there is my desire to have thighs that do not meet during stride. I'm trying to put off their brushing, slapping, or making otherwise uncalled-for noises for as long as possible. On any nice day, this is easy enough. I take a long walk around Reynolda Gardens or Hanes Park a few times a week, and all is well. Heart is beating, legs are firm, body is getting sunshine. And then there's January. Now, I like weight training. I'm usually up for that most anytime. But on cold, dreary days, I have a real hard time getting all inspired to run in place, on a machine, indoors. It is a completely unnatural act. I can sort of handle the treadmills, and the elliptical things are tolerable. Unfortunately, they don't offer up much in the way of toning. That is, if you don't want leggy wiggle in the wintertime, you gotta hop on the stairmaster at least once or twice a week. I hate the stairmaster. I always feel like such a doof on the stupid thing, hanging on for dear life, trying not to lose balance as I ascend the 433rd flight during Cardio Wimp cycle. It beeps incessantly. "This is your heart rate. AAAAH-HA-HA-HA-HA! Loser." You can't even read a book, even though there's a little caddy on the thing. I can't, anyway. I fall off every time I try to turn the page. Mmph. I think I would feel less doofy if there weren't always some Stairmaster-lover in the room. Sometimes it's a guy, sometimes a lady. Yesterday it was some dude who kept yawning REALLY REALLY loud and not covering his mouth. Yuck-ola, compadre! No class, no manners, just hush up and keep climbing, you! January may be looking up, though. I registered for Spanish classes this quarter--finally. I figured since North Carolina (and America) are going bilingual, so should I! I'll let you know how I do in the wonderful world of adult continuing education. It's been awhile since I sat in a classroom. I'll try to cover my mouth if yawning commences. |
