how much is that doggie in the mirror? arf! arf!

So I was on a treadmill this afternoon. Go me! It was an interesting, and surprisingly not-that-unpleasant experience. The level of unpleasantness was largely due in part to the wussy walking speed I set the machine at. But hey, it was my first time on a treadmill! I wanted to take it easy. Test the waters. Make sure the equipment was safe. Safe as in it wouldn't suddenly explode on me. Reasonable, no? I thought so.

I've worked out in gyms before but have never set foot on a treadmill. I've ridden bikes and climbed stair steppers, but have never milled the tread. So I was a little hesitant at first. I didn't want to just jump on a treadmill and pretend like I knew what I was doing. That would be a sure fire way to have the Exercise Gods punish by way of an embarrassing injury.

Curious George: "What happened to your forehead? Is that rug burn?"
Me: "No. It's uh... *ahem* treadmill burn."

I didn't know what to expect so I expected the worst. You know, like a clumsy feat of tripping over my own feet, spraining/breaking/twisting something, pushing the wrong button and setting the building on fire, decapitation... Anyway, the actual exercise part was fine. Fun even, in that lovely endorphin-induced-euphoria sort of way.

What I didn't like about the experience were the mirrors. See, there's a mini gym at our apartment complex and the HB and I figured we might as well take advantage of it. There's enough room for two treadmills and two cross trainers, side by side, up against one wall. Then there's a small jungle gym of weights and benches in the middle of the room. And that's it. It's a very small gym. But it works for me. The HB would rather get a gym membership where the equipment is better, but to that idea I say 'feh!' The gym here is good enough. Plus with the money we're forking over for rent, I can't afford a gym membership. So the gym here is really good enough.

So anyway... we walk into the 'gym' and I get on the treadmill while the HB gets on the crosstrainer next to me. Our backs are to the rest of the room. And in front of us? A lovely wall of mirror.

I know some people like to watch themselves as they work out. I don't. I don't need to be reminded of what I'm trying to loose. Trust me. I know its there, standing in the exit line, trying to find a taxi to take it some place it's actually wanted, but there are no taxis in sight...

Where was I? Oh. Mirrors. Yeah, so I'm doing my walking thing, and there's a big fucking mirror in front of me. Sure, after I walk my way into becoming a Sexy Mutha Fucka, I wouldn't mind ogling myself while I sweat. But right now? No. I don't want to. So I studied my treadmill readouts and watched as the lights wound around the 'track' to show my progress. That held my attention for a few minutes. Then I was kindly distracted by the guy coming in to workout on the jungle gym behind me. I was wishing at that point that I hadn't worn my ratty 'oh my goodness I think my ass hangs out of these shorts' shorts.

A few minutes of that sort of paranoia goes a long way at killing time. So the next thing I knew I only had two minutes left programmed of my walk. I spent one of those minutes talking with the HB, who was already done. I could have walked a bit more, but since I think we're going to make this an every day thing, I figured it would be a good idea to build up some stamina. Start off slow and build from there. Plus, the minute or so I had left could be used walking back to our apartment. So I pushed the stop button, picked up my walkman, turned around, and when I started to walk off the treadmill I started to seriously trip out. It felt like the treadmill was still moving, going in reverse actually, and IT FELT LIKE I WAS GOING TO SLIDE RIGHT OFF!!! It was major trippy dudes and dudettes. At the end of my treadmill walk, I was wondering way the speed had started to decrease. I guess it's to get your legs readjusted to the real world of non moving walkways. Man, that shit seriously messes with your equilibrium. I tried to walk straight, but it was like trying really hard to act sober when you're so drunk you’re just a room-spinning minute away from passing out. I'm sure I looked really silly trying really hard to stand up straight on wobbly jell-o like legs. Right in front of the HB and some other gym guy. Go me!

I felt my bad knee start to act up a little bit during my walk, but I was careful and it never gave me any problems, so all and all it was good experience. And I'll be back tomorrow, walking with my walkman, strutting my stuff to the tune of my favorite Spice Girls tunes. Though I think I might bring a poster and some scotch tape so I have something more pleasant to stare at. It's such a small room, I ran out of things to stare at after awhile. Maybe I should talk the HB into lifting some weights on the jungle gym. Then I could stare at his ass for a bit. That's a pretty good plan if I do say so myself.