Monday, December 9, 2002
Dear Diary:

When I started back at the gym in November everyone told me that muscles have memory, that this time I would get a much faster payoff for working out than I got when I began from scratch.

It seems to be true.

I will go so far as to state that it appears that my muscles are the elephants of the muscle world, Muscles That Never Forget. Does that mean that they're regaining strength quickly? Sort of.

What they REALLY remember, though,

IS HOW FREAKING MUCH THEY HATE THE GYM.

There. I feel much, much better.

I went in to the gym late in the morning today because when I woke up it was -22C, which is Stupidly Cold for those of my three loyal readers who speak Fahrenheit. I decided both the Marnmobile and I deserved to at least have the thermometer a degree or two above 0F before we motored off to a couple hours of pain, humiliation and torture.

Thus (and I'm sure we all agree that the word "thus" is sadly underused on the World Wide Web and Something Should Be Done About It) thus I ended up at the gym during The Time of the Serious Weightlifters. This is not a group I get to see very often, since I usually tend to show up early morning which is the time for my peer group, Middle-Aged Women of Dubious Fitness.

You can well imagine my excitement at seeing actual Serious Weightlifters. While I was doing my half hour of aerobic cross-training on the elliptical machine, I eavesdropped on their conversations.

(Yes, I know that technically Eavesdropping On Others Is Wrong, but the truth is that there is an exemption for Women Over 50. No. Really. There is. Oh, and should you ever become a Woman Over 50 Who Is Also Menopausal, not only do you get to eavesdrop, you also get to tell the people upon whom you are eavesdropping How To Live Their Lives.)

Yes, my future holds so many possibilities I can barely stand it.

Try to curb your envy.

The Serious Weightlifters, for those of you who do not hang around gyms, are guys who are very intent on flinging obscenely heavy amounts of metal up in the air so they can "bulk out"--become very muscular.

While almost every other person in the gym would be deliriously happy to announce that they had lost four pounds in a week, in this group a four pound loss is a tragedy. When it is confessed, it leads to the sort of sympathetic commiseration not often seen outside of funeral homes.

One of The Serious Weightlifters had suffered just such a trauma and for a moment there I almost felt I was watching an episode of Dr. Phil. You know, if Dr. Phil was a really bulked out guy surrounded by other really bulked out guys who weren't comfortable about talking about feelings but were all sharing one of those "I Hear You" moments. I almost felt guilty about eavesdropping in on such an intensely personal moment.

Almost.

All sympathy flew out the window, however, when it became time to start throwing the obscenely heavy amounts of metal up in the air. Then it became all about the numbers. Oh, and making very bestial grunting sounds while lifting the obscenely heavy amounts of metal.

My aerobics workout flew by, what with that kind of quality entertainment and all.

Then it was my turn to be a source of amusement as I did the upper body portion of my free weight routine. The Serious Weightlifters didn't actually point and snicker or anything, but at the moment I can only move about 1 per cent as much metal as the weakest of them.

This would make me a bona fide sissypants in the world of The Serious Weightlifters. I know you feel my pain.

The absolute low point for me was when I went to the incline bench, stripped off the 200 pounds one of them had left on the bar, and then struggled to get my three reps of 15 out, pushing up nothing but the bare bar.

I could barely do it. My forehead was beaded with sweat, the muscles in my upper arms burning as I dragged those final reps out of my screaming body. That 45 minutes of free weights was one of the longest 45 minutes of my life.

Oh, The Shame. The Humiliation. The Torture.

I'm really focussing on cardio (getting my heart in shape) for the next while, so weights done, I programmed the elliptical machine for another 30 minutes, this time running backwards. Along with heart benefits, backwards has the added bonus of being extremely beneficial for the buttal region.

One of The Serious Weightlifters took the machine behind mine and asked me why I was going backwards. I explained the buttal benefits. He decided that if a white-haired woman could do it, so could he.

He lasted 10 minutes.

.:cough:. I cranked out the full 30. .:cough:.

Smug?

Me?

You betcha.

--Marn

P.S.--If you're doing any of your Christmas shopping at Amazon this year, why not do it through Blue Sphere? Five per cent of what you spend will be donated by Amazon to Blue Sphere, and will be given to the Foster Parents Plan of Canada.

Yep, you get to make a large corporation cough up five per cent of its profits AND at no cost to yourself you get to help some poor kids out. What's not to love about that, eh?

Blue Sphere, moral materialism

NEWSFLASH! Now you get the chance at Canuckistani Hot Chocolate for getting the word out about Blue Sphere. Post a link and you're in the contest. Whatcha waiting for? Huh? HUH?

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.