Hard Core, Soft Shell

Guess what I did last night? I actually went to a gym, got a membership and worked out! That's right. I hit the gym! Actually, strike that. If truth be told, it would be far more accurate to say that the gym hit me. (And it hits hard.)

Given that it's been about 3 years since I've been able to properly "work out", I was super excited. The prospect of lifting weights instead of stinky diaper pails was absolutely exhilarating! I planned to start off gently. After all, I didn't want to get so sore that I'd never want to step foot in the place again. I figured on doing 2 sets of 10-12 reps on each weight machine. I wasn't overly optimistic when selecting my weight settings. I tended to stick to the wimpy side. After all, I probably fall into that category quite naturally now anyways.

Long ago, during my weight lifting days, I was trained in the Zach and Jared school of "lift until you fail". Given my strategy of easing in gently, I expected that reaching my failure limit would be on the distant horizon. After all, I'd specifically chosen extra-light weights. Unfortunately, by the end of my second set I was hitting failure on almost every machine. Darn it! I had somehow hoped that continuously hefting around my little butterball (Owen) had miraculously kept me in better shape than I expected. But, obviously, it didn't.

Oh well...onwards and upwards! I had successfully finished my circuit through all the weight machines and, given my tendency to spook (bolt the opposite direction at the first glimpse of anything unsettling), that was something to be proud of. It was time for some cardio. I didn't want to do the treadmill. My legs were a little too wobbly for that. I didn't want to do the stair-steppers, ellipticals or bikes, either - been there, done that. But then, I spotted some sort of new machine! It looked sort of like an elliptical, but not quite. And better yet, no one else was anywhere near the vicinity, so I could stumble through my maiden voyage in anonymity. I hopped on and got going. Admittedly, I am not the most graceful person around, but this machine made me feel even more awkward than normal. The only thing I can think to compare the motion to was if someone were to try to climb a hill while wearing snowshoes...going backwards. Exactly. Why would anyone in their right minds ever do such a thing? But, nevertheless, I chose the 20 minute program. After all, I thought, "I can do anything for 20 minutes". Apparently not. I made it for 5 minutes, and then called it quits. Once my heart rate was rivaling the pace of a thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby, I figured I'd better admit defeat before having a complete coronary blow-out. I'm not even sure what the machine is called, so I've decided to refer to it as "The Machine That Kicked My Butt". I mentioned the name to my sister this morning and, without any further description, she knew exactly which one I was talking about. So, I'm guessing the name is going to stick.

Despite the fact that my finish fell far short of spectacular, it was still fun! I was out of the house without my two precious helpers and I was getting exercise - it was great! The only thing that was missing was some music. I decided that next time I'll definitely have to bring my iPod. I thought about asking Zach to make me a special workout playlist. Something inspiring. Something fiery and motivated. Then I realized, why do I need that, when I have Enya? After all, that's what Jasmine and I always listened to while we pumped iron. Now that I think about it, though, I'm not sure that Jasmine and I really quite reached our potential or fulfilled our goals. But, we sure had fun. Since I'm on my own this time around, maybe I'd better rethink that spit and vinegar playlist. My time is limited. I'd better get tough...and fast. Otherwise, this hard core mama will never break through her soft shell. (Ha!) I can't help but laugh at that and, for those of you who know me well, I'm sure you'll have to snicker as well. I can pretend, can't I?