Taking fitness classes can make you feel like you're in the Suburban Army. UP DOWN UP DOWN UP DOWN. And I do as I'm told, which, as you might imagine, is not my M.O. UP DOWN UP DOWN UP DOWN. Pant. Pant. Pant.
Teacher LOVES "jumps". This is where you ride your spinning bike seated, position "2", then take it to position "3", up off the seat and pumping with all you've got, then back to "2", then back to "3", "2", "UP", "DOWN", "UP", DOWN". You get the picture. Fairly grueling, and I don't even have balls.
It's an intense workout - pretty challenging. Teacher asks, "How's everyone doing???". No one answers because WE CAN'T BREATHE. She's beating everyone's pace, telling us what to do, paying attention to the routine AND watching to see if anyone has died yet. And then she smiles. Sweat is pouring off my nose, boogers are imminent, my hands are slipping off the handlebars, and she's smiling. Even at the end of the workout she looks great, because, of course, she's alot younger and really pretty. Me? I look like I'm in the Suburban Army after a battle with zombies. I'm beet red, soaked with sweat, and my hair, which I've been growing out, is all over the place (I've just managed to get it into a stupid looking little ponytail for the first time this week).
When Teacher's voice is in my head during my other workouts I find myself really pushing, which is a good thing, because my usual is to think more about form and what's for dinner tonight. Lifting weights is alot about UP DOWN UP DOWN. Running is also a good deal of UP DOWN UP DOWN UP DOWN (especially when my left knee is acting up). Swimming is also alot of UP DOWN UP DOWN UP DOWN. Through it all, I also try to remember to breathe. This is essential, especially if you are swimming.
Creepy Old Guy always gets in the pool at the stairs and does the UP DOWN UP DOWN UP DOWN from lane to lane to lane until he gets to the one he's decided to swim in. Very weird.
If I'm UP that's where I want to be. If I'm DOWN I fight it. With elections next week I've got to be thoughtful about RIGHT AND LEFT. And since it's Halloween tonight I'll be watching out for zombies. I'm fit and ready for fight. Bring it on. It's sometimes the ONLY way to vision my way through those tough workouts.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Sharing
At 5:15 a.m. on Friday all the swim lanes were occupied by just one person. I arrive. Someone was going to get lucky and get ME in the lane with them. Who will I pick on???
I scan the offerings. There is always my pick of fat boys but they make waves and take up alot of space. A few little women, like me, but nicer, might make room, but they are just a little too intense and competetive and, let's face it, younger and stronger than I am, so I pass on those choices because I don't want to feel old. Stefanaki is okay but he does the butterfly, which means swallowing water. So I pick on T.B.B. Again. Sorry, sweetheart. I guess that's what you get for being such a nice lady. I'll make a point of picking on someone else next time, I promise.
Davey Boy has always been a good lane splitter. He keeps to his side, butterflies when it won't drown the other swimmer, doesn't race, and staggers off the wall so we aren't swimming side by side. I like to get in with him when his wife, Evil Lifeguard, is in the highchair. Maybe she'll squirm. Hey, I am half naked, FYI.
Awhile later I get the lane to myself. Sweet cheeses - so nice to spread out and go into the zone (a.k.a. La La Land). I can kick, snort, speed, smooth out and do my thing without worrying about kicking, smacking, punching, or spitting on anyone (or having the same done to me). Out of the corner of my eye I spy someone entering the pool deck. Who are they going to pick on??? I try to feign ignorance of their arrival.....
Some will sit quietly on the benches and observe. They wait and decide who to pick on. Others ponder, stroll abit, stalk a lane, then try to get the swimmer's attention and ask, as sweetly as they know how at 5:45 in the morning, if the person minds sharing a lane. I TRY to be nice, most of the time, but I hate that it's always the small women that get picked on first (especially if I'm in Lane One - very popular with Beginners). Others just get in and start swimming without any effort at being nice, or safe. Like Fat Blowfish Lady. I can raise alot of water when I kick, trust me on this.
And then there are those folks that I really like, that I'm always happy to share a lane with, and I remember that conversely I never like to wait, and that I really SHOULD be nice, knowing how it feels to be the one that wants in. Lover Boy is a good lane splitter. So is K-Too. And Peanut, wherever she is. And Poobah. Hey, Poobah - I miss you. Are you all better??? It will be nice to have you back in the pool. But there's always others that I will try to discourage. Like the Spitter. And JOJ. And LCD. And Miss Middle of the Lane. And Creepy Old Guy. Elbows out: Sharing ain't nearly as sweet as having a lane all to yourself.
I scan the offerings. There is always my pick of fat boys but they make waves and take up alot of space. A few little women, like me, but nicer, might make room, but they are just a little too intense and competetive and, let's face it, younger and stronger than I am, so I pass on those choices because I don't want to feel old. Stefanaki is okay but he does the butterfly, which means swallowing water. So I pick on T.B.B. Again. Sorry, sweetheart. I guess that's what you get for being such a nice lady. I'll make a point of picking on someone else next time, I promise.
Davey Boy has always been a good lane splitter. He keeps to his side, butterflies when it won't drown the other swimmer, doesn't race, and staggers off the wall so we aren't swimming side by side. I like to get in with him when his wife, Evil Lifeguard, is in the highchair. Maybe she'll squirm. Hey, I am half naked, FYI.
Awhile later I get the lane to myself. Sweet cheeses - so nice to spread out and go into the zone (a.k.a. La La Land). I can kick, snort, speed, smooth out and do my thing without worrying about kicking, smacking, punching, or spitting on anyone (or having the same done to me). Out of the corner of my eye I spy someone entering the pool deck. Who are they going to pick on??? I try to feign ignorance of their arrival.....
Some will sit quietly on the benches and observe. They wait and decide who to pick on. Others ponder, stroll abit, stalk a lane, then try to get the swimmer's attention and ask, as sweetly as they know how at 5:45 in the morning, if the person minds sharing a lane. I TRY to be nice, most of the time, but I hate that it's always the small women that get picked on first (especially if I'm in Lane One - very popular with Beginners). Others just get in and start swimming without any effort at being nice, or safe. Like Fat Blowfish Lady. I can raise alot of water when I kick, trust me on this.
And then there are those folks that I really like, that I'm always happy to share a lane with, and I remember that conversely I never like to wait, and that I really SHOULD be nice, knowing how it feels to be the one that wants in. Lover Boy is a good lane splitter. So is K-Too. And Peanut, wherever she is. And Poobah. Hey, Poobah - I miss you. Are you all better??? It will be nice to have you back in the pool. But there's always others that I will try to discourage. Like the Spitter. And JOJ. And LCD. And Miss Middle of the Lane. And Creepy Old Guy. Elbows out: Sharing ain't nearly as sweet as having a lane all to yourself.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The smell of success
Laps. Sets. 5K on the treadmill. It's October and indoor workouts start to be the norm for those that work 9 to 5 M-F 365 less 3 weeks off for annual leave minus a few days for calling in sick and a few public holidays. Except for the rain and wind, the weather during the day can be quite lovely. Too bad now it's dark until 7 a.m. and the traffic at 6 p.m. is a nightmare (so no running or biking at that hour, unless you wish a tragic exit). The Gym Junkies are back at the gym.
Thank gawd for underarm deoderant. I think that it rates quite high in terms of significant inventions for the 20th century. This, and brownie mix. I don't know what life would be without them, really.
I like to do my aerobic before the anaerobic part of my workout. This way I have all my high energy to devote to killing myself on a spinning bike, treadmill, or elliptical before I crap out on the mats or try to lift weights. Plus, I haven't talked myself out of killing myself on a spinning bike, treadmill, or elliptical, which is easy to do if you O.D.'d on brownies the night before. The end result is I'm all sweaty and stinky and, without my Avon lady (who happens to be the wife of the 6' 2" night cleaner at the Y that brings me my order; he happens to have lovely skin, FYI) you might notice I'm not quite fresh.
That's why I always loved swimming the best. Put in a couple of miles in the pool and you never break a sweat. The clean sweet scent of chlorine is all that you carry with you (for a couple of hours even after your time in the pool, despite the shower with perfumey soaps, lotions, creams, sprays, and powders). MEN: Please refrain from using Old Spice after you shave before you swim. I can taste it in the water and it is nasty.
It was a Glade moment when I stepped into the spinning room at 5:05 on Thursday morning. I think Orange Puke was the scent being thrown off by the electified air fresheners that they must have just installed. I'm still trying to decide if it was worse or better than B.O. At least after 5 minutes or so of huffing it up some imaginary hill I stopped noticing it. Maybe I should be thankful.
Thank gawd for underarm deoderant. I think that it rates quite high in terms of significant inventions for the 20th century. This, and brownie mix. I don't know what life would be without them, really.
I like to do my aerobic before the anaerobic part of my workout. This way I have all my high energy to devote to killing myself on a spinning bike, treadmill, or elliptical before I crap out on the mats or try to lift weights. Plus, I haven't talked myself out of killing myself on a spinning bike, treadmill, or elliptical, which is easy to do if you O.D.'d on brownies the night before. The end result is I'm all sweaty and stinky and, without my Avon lady (who happens to be the wife of the 6' 2" night cleaner at the Y that brings me my order; he happens to have lovely skin, FYI) you might notice I'm not quite fresh.
That's why I always loved swimming the best. Put in a couple of miles in the pool and you never break a sweat. The clean sweet scent of chlorine is all that you carry with you (for a couple of hours even after your time in the pool, despite the shower with perfumey soaps, lotions, creams, sprays, and powders). MEN: Please refrain from using Old Spice after you shave before you swim. I can taste it in the water and it is nasty.
It was a Glade moment when I stepped into the spinning room at 5:05 on Thursday morning. I think Orange Puke was the scent being thrown off by the electified air fresheners that they must have just installed. I'm still trying to decide if it was worse or better than B.O. At least after 5 minutes or so of huffing it up some imaginary hill I stopped noticing it. Maybe I should be thankful.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Insomnia
For us aging gym junkies there is nothing more frustrating than not being able to get a good night's sleep when you're trying to workout really early in the day. Except maybe getting behind Little Miss Speed Limit when you're in a big rush to get to the gym.
Up at 4:15 a.m. Exercise, get cleaned up and speed off to get to the job by 9:00 a.m. Work all day, get home, regroup, eat, and fall asleep. Correction: CRASH. It's 9:00 p.m. At least this time of year it's dark outside so I don't feel like such a wuss going to bed so early. But I can't help it. I'M TIRED. When I was a teenager and into my twenties staying up late was cool. I went out late and stayed out late and tried to stay up even later, sometimes all night, and it seemed I could get by the next day just fine on a just a few hours sleep. Speaking of staying up all night and having a good time: Wonder Woman went to Vegas and never came back.
Anyway, NOW: I think "I'm tired. I want to sleep. Blankets. Pillows. Peace." Earplugs: check. Cat: check. Glass of water: check. Alarms set: check. Down I go. Sweet.
Until 2:00 a.m. when I wake up. Then I realize that now it's 4:00 a.m. and I'm still awake. GAWD. And just so you know, that there should be no worries (at least for today), I've managed to solve all the world's problems in just a couple of hours. No thanks necessary, folks, it's my pleasure to help out. I've also remembered all the important details of my third grade teacher, Mrs. Polk, planned meals for the next 5 months, and designed my garden for next summer. Good to get all that stuff taken care of, I assure you. I was up all night on Friday but I did at least notice that Adam was not Becky, our usual spinning instructor on Saturday morning, which is a good sign.
Last night's insomnia attack was pretty bad. Second night in a row. I turned off the alarms. When I did fall back to sleep it was only long enough to wake up again and know I still had time to get to the pool for when it opens but decided not to. Sigh. Top off the frustration of not sleeping with a touch of guilt and you only get one thing: pasta for breakfast. I'm glad it's Sunday.
They say the only cure for insomnia is to get more sleep. If I go to bed at 7:00 tonight and wake up at 2:00 a.m. it will be WORSE because I'll have gotten enough sleep. I'll have to wait until 5:00 a.m. because the aliens have the Y at night. I'll get behind Little Miss Speed Limit, again. And I'll hope that the water is nice and cold so I wake up in time for work.
Up at 4:15 a.m. Exercise, get cleaned up and speed off to get to the job by 9:00 a.m. Work all day, get home, regroup, eat, and fall asleep. Correction: CRASH. It's 9:00 p.m. At least this time of year it's dark outside so I don't feel like such a wuss going to bed so early. But I can't help it. I'M TIRED. When I was a teenager and into my twenties staying up late was cool. I went out late and stayed out late and tried to stay up even later, sometimes all night, and it seemed I could get by the next day just fine on a just a few hours sleep. Speaking of staying up all night and having a good time: Wonder Woman went to Vegas and never came back.
Anyway, NOW: I think "I'm tired. I want to sleep. Blankets. Pillows. Peace." Earplugs: check. Cat: check. Glass of water: check. Alarms set: check. Down I go. Sweet.
Until 2:00 a.m. when I wake up. Then I realize that now it's 4:00 a.m. and I'm still awake. GAWD. And just so you know, that there should be no worries (at least for today), I've managed to solve all the world's problems in just a couple of hours. No thanks necessary, folks, it's my pleasure to help out. I've also remembered all the important details of my third grade teacher, Mrs. Polk, planned meals for the next 5 months, and designed my garden for next summer. Good to get all that stuff taken care of, I assure you. I was up all night on Friday but I did at least notice that Adam was not Becky, our usual spinning instructor on Saturday morning, which is a good sign.
Last night's insomnia attack was pretty bad. Second night in a row. I turned off the alarms. When I did fall back to sleep it was only long enough to wake up again and know I still had time to get to the pool for when it opens but decided not to. Sigh. Top off the frustration of not sleeping with a touch of guilt and you only get one thing: pasta for breakfast. I'm glad it's Sunday.
They say the only cure for insomnia is to get more sleep. If I go to bed at 7:00 tonight and wake up at 2:00 a.m. it will be WORSE because I'll have gotten enough sleep. I'll have to wait until 5:00 a.m. because the aliens have the Y at night. I'll get behind Little Miss Speed Limit, again. And I'll hope that the water is nice and cold so I wake up in time for work.
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