Today is the day I picked to start "seriously" training. By that I mean I'm going to start keeping track of my workouts. So far I've been working out, but not pushing myself too hard. Now that I'm sharing my workouts with the entire internet I'm going to have to start putting up some impressive numbers, AND figuring out a way to do it creatively. I'm going to describe my workout, and find something to rant and rave about each one. Hopefully that works out. If not I'll have to figure out something better.
The workout: Arms and back: a billion reps on each machine with low weight. Legs: More billions of reps and climbed 40 flights of stairs. Core: 100 sit-ups with a teal medicine ball at -15 degree incline...and billions of reps on another machine.
Rave: The Stairmaster. I am one of those people who is completely incapable of using a stationary stairmaster. My brain can't process the whole "you pick your foot up but you don't pick it up off of the step" thing. LA fitness has a Stairmaster with actual moving stairs! It was fantastic! Finally I was able to try one of those workouts without falling off the machine in front of everyone....not that I've done that many times or anything.
Rant: People who incessantly chat during a workout. Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to exchanging a few words. I shared a nice laugh with a lady who tripped over nothing (as I tend to do on a very regular basis), and exchanged "hello"s with several people. That was fine. I spoke with a personal trainer for about 15 minutes, during which he added more weight to my machine and instructed me on how to use another. Also fine. Then someone hopped on the machine next to mine. I had my ear-phones in so I didn't hear anything, but I offered a smile to be friendly. I couldn't hear him, but I could see him talking in the mirror. Eventually he tapped me on the arm to get my attention, pantomimed removing earphones, and waited. I did what he "asked". Apparently that was a mistake. He chattered for five minutes about himself and how hard he was working out, and then started asking me questions. For years my coaches yelled "if you can talk you're not working hard enough!" during practice when we would talk. It never made as much sense to me as it did today. Here I am essentially doing bleacher runs, as he leisurely climbs stairs and wonders why I'm talking less than him. As flattered as I am that you have chosen to talk to me and flirt with me, leave me alone. If I wanted to be hit on at the gym I'd wear something super tiny and tight, do my make-up, make sure my hair didn't look like a mess, whatever. I didn't do any of those things. I appreciate people being friendly, but I'm here to work. If you want to talk while I'm stretching, be my guest. When I'm obviously working hard please either find someone else to bother or wait till I'm cooling down or on a different machine.
Consider this my official commitment to a bike ride this evening. I finally got my brakes repaired, so I'm planning on taking her for a nice long spin.
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