I think that I overextended myself at the gym today. What with my almost complete inability to get out of bed before 10 over the past week (I know. I KNOW. The Boy has been picking up my slack), I have yet to make a single class this year. And since my only experiences were with fitness classes, I wasn't really sure if I had the nerve to just go to the gym and exercise. It all seemed a little serious for a girl like me. And yet I knew that part of my exhaustion came from these sedentary habits, so I needed to get moving again if I had a hope of escaping the terrible shame of being a lay-a-bed mom.

Today I did the machines for the first time (at that gym). I have to say that my first work-out of the New Year was awesome. I remembered just enough technique from Nike to avoid making a total ass of myself in front of the other clients, and I have just enough stamina from 11 months of Baby fitness to avoid exhaustion and death on the cardio machines. There was actually a moment on the bikes near the end of my second program when I was so endorphin-high that I panted, "ten! more! minutes!" and meant it. For about 40 seconds, until my leg muscles started to moan.

They're moaning now. If you listen to my knee you can just make out, "you doorknob! take it easy on the bikes when you haven't been on in, oh, TWO FREAKING YEARS!"

My legs, they exaggerate. And hurt. A lot.

If anything is to blame for my current aches & pains, then I choose to blame the radio station at the gym. They could've set it to anonymous techno, the kind that crawls into your head and almost makes you want to work out but not quite because it also sucks. Instead the radio played a MOR station that programmed an 80's lunch, so I was treated with "The Kid is Hot Tonite" and "Tainted Love" and "Sweet Dreams" and that Trooper song that warns us all of time's escaping speed. You know - the one Rick Mercer sang with the Canadian troops. I challenge any of you to NOT pedal your brains out to "The Kid is Hot Tonite." Can't be done, right? Because unlike anonymous techno, it's impossible to be dorkier than that song. And you can sing it about yourself, even as you're increasing the resistance.

Thanks to my three posters, who assured me that I don't need the validation of a BoB award. They're undoubtedly correct. It's not like anyone starts to blog for the awards, anyway, so there's no point in being bitter.

Besides, I have to save all of my bitter energy for reading. I'm halfway through The Dark Tower, and it's really hard to be consumed by a book when you only get to sit down and read it once a day. (I also sneak in the occasional 5 minutes during breakfast or in the bathroom.) Keeping the entire 7-books (plus countless tie-ins to other novels) of plot in my head when I'd much rather be reading it all in a few days saps much of the energy I'd ear-marked for long-standing grudges and random acts of bitterness. So you're off the hook, BoB's. I'll scowl at you another day.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 1/07/2005 07:14:00 p.m.