My last post touted my immune system as a Herculean force that rarely gives an inch. That does not mean, however, that the other systems that make up my body are at the top of their game. My hair started fleeing like the French when I was 19, I've been getting a little soft around the edges the past few years, and I even got my first cavity recently. I can't run as fast, jump as high (although that's like saying Kathy Griffin isn't as funny as she used to be), or throw as far as I used to. I feel like I'm totally falling apart. And I'm only 28! At this rate, I'll need to hire a full-time caretaker by the time I'm 37 (Jamie, you would think, would be willing to bathe me, clothe me, push my wheelchair, and help me in the bathroom. Nope. That job's going to a professional). Father Time's hot breath has been right in my face so last week I gave him some mouthwash. I started working out.
I knew my friend Jon works out regularly and we've always thrown around the idea of working out together. So when I finally said that I was ready to make it happen, he told me to meet him the next morning at the health club at 6. In the AM! Daunted but not deterred, I showed up at 6am. I've always known that Jon's workout routine is pretty intense and fast-paced, which is probably why it took me so long to agree to do it with him, so I was a little nervous about being able to keep up. But I did. Man, I really did. I was doing all the exercises Jon was doing and keeping up beautifully, same amount of reps, same amount of time between exercises (usually about 5 seconds). I was kicking that workout right in the mouth and feeling good doing it. We ended the workout after roughly an hour, which is about when the trouble started.
I started feeling a little "off" as we walked back to the locker room. My head was spinning a little bit, my stomach was nauseous, and my whole body had a strange ache to it. Jon took a look at me and asked "Are you okay?" I nodded yes and replied that I just needed to sit down in the locker room before leaving. Five minutes of sitting down helped a little bit and I got up, bid adieu to Jon, and ventured out the door. It was during the trek across the parking lot (which felt as long as walking across Canada) that I began to realize that I was in worse shape than I thought I was. I poured myself into my car and started driving as fast as I safely could in order to get home before I either passed out or "tossed my cookies" inside my car. I wasn't gonna make it. Pulling off on a side road, I miraculously stumbled upon a park with a porta-potty. Now, I figured this porta-potty had been there all summer, marinating and steaming, and smelling like the worst thing on earth. My assumption was proved correct when I opened the door. The stench hit me like a crowbar to Nancy Kerrigan's knee. Without going into too much detail, I spent about a half hour in there and thanked God for its existence every second I was in there.
Lesson learned. I now do about 1/2 the reps Jon does, at 1/2 the speed. Any time someone stares at me as I do my lame workout, I think back to my steamy dance with the porta-potty and think "Are there worse things than being stared at for doing 5lb bicep curls? Yes. There most certainly are."
Real Estate Note: Interested in how Madison's housing market is doing compared to the rest of the U.S? Click here: http://www.zillow.com/local-info/ and scroll down until you see Madison. If you click on it, it will show up in the graph.
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