I’m officially addicted to the gym.
Every morning, before work, I head to the gym at 5:00 am. I do a bit of cardio, then some weight training, before I head to the locker room to shower and dress for the day. Last week, I slept through my alarm and woke up with just enough time to shower and dress before work, and I had to miss the gym. It ruined my whole day: I was irritable and tired because I didn’t get my morning adrenaline rush.
I love my private time at the gym. (And not just because I can shower without a toddler whining in the background.) My work outs put me in touch with my body. I feel every stretch, strain, and ache. I can feel my endurance picking up. I used to hate with a passion dislike running. I would fast-walk on an incline on the treadmill, but if I tried to run, I’d last MAYBE a minute. Maybe. Yesterday, after 30 minutes of high-intensity cardio on the elliptical machine, I headed over to the treadmill for what I thought would be my cool-down. I was bored at my medium walking pace, so I upped the ante and started running. I kept my finger on the speed button, assuming that I’d need to slow down after a minute or so. Three minutes later, I was still running strong. Two minutes after that, I felt a little tired and reduced my speed, but that only lasted a minute or two. I was in awe of myself. Never in my life could I do that before.
In my pre-baby days, I was a gym rat. I had a personal trainer for a while, and I’d go to the gym religiously after work. (Back then, I would sleep until the absolute last minute before I had to get up and go to work. Morning workouts were for early birds and dedicated people, of which I was neither.) The staff all knew me on a first-name basis. I was fit and healthy. (But I still couldn’t run.) When I learned I was pregnant, my OB put me on “pelvic rest” because Pterodactyl hadn’t implanted correctly, and at the top of the No-No List was working out. Once I received clearance to return to my exercise routine, I was so out-of-shape and under-motivated that I just quit. That’s how I managed to gain 51 pounds during my pregnancy; I was a slug. My couch cushions had a better workout than me by simply supporting my fat ass. I’ve been fighting my body all 12 months of the baby’s life to get back into my stylish pre-pregnancy clothes. I’m finally winning.
The gym is my place, during my time. I’m nobody’s mother, wife, teacher, or friend. I’m just me. I can read my Kindle while doing my cardio without interruption. I can focus on my needs entirely, even if it’s just for an hour a day. I sweat, I stink, and I smile.
What do you do when you need “Me Time?” Do you exercise like me? Do you scrapbook/knit/paint? Shop?
Daisy and Violet 