shiny & pretty things

Last Sunday, I made to the gym. It was the infamous Day 1 that I had carefully and delicately placed on a pedestal. For days before that, I adored that workout routine in all it's perfection hoisted high on that pedestal until I realized I would have to follow through with it. So, I had a heaping scoop of whey protein and some sugary mango [to access immediate energy] and I got dressed in my little gym suit. I couldn't immediately go work out or I would vomit from all that food in my stomach. I did some dishes, started some laundry, stared out the window, watched some crack-like addictive E! channel programming, and then realized 45 minutes had passed. I wondered what happened to my sugary mango energy reserves. I rushed to the gym to ensure the mangoes would be property utilized.

When I got to the gym, I was already impressed with myself. It was a nice Sunday afternoon, perfect for lounging on my cozy couch. The icy wind was howling and I was sure that the right side of my face was chapped from walking into the gym from the parking lot. I walked downstairs, put my things in the locker room and took out the black and white photocopy I made from the Muscle & Fitness Hers magazine. It's not that I've never been in a gym before and have no idea what to do. I've worked out since I was 14 and got my hands on my first Shape magazine. I used to do the mini fitness routines in my room with my pink weights. Then, I progressed to the grown-up gym in college and loved it. Even though I know a million different ways to work out, it's helpful to have a plan written down or have a personal trainer tell me what to do. Otherwise, I would just wander around randomly doing exercises that pop into my mind.

The workout ended up being fantastic and I felt amazing when I finished. It was a standard 10 minute cardio appetizer, then an upper body weights entree, then 25 minutes of cardio for dessert. Delicious! And to top off all this tasty goodness, I learned what time all the hot guys come to the gym on Sundays. Apparently, I have to show up after Hangover o'clock in the morning, but before Random Sports TV Event o'clock in the afternoon.

My back, chest, triceps, shoulders, and biceps were sore from Monday until Wednesday. And I had no idea how much pectoral muscle went into turning the wheel of a car until my muscle fibers were bleeding from the inside out while finding a prime parking spot in my deck and avoiding running into the support beams. My muscles were so sore that I have not found myself at the gym since that Sunday. The good news is that was only 6 days ago instead of 6 weeks or 6 months.

I have even more good news. In my avoidance of going to the gym this week, my apartment looks amazing. As amazing as any 670 square foot apartment can look, that is. Everything is in order, as if I had a live-in wait staff. I even do my dishes as I'm cooking and after I eat. I've never done that in my life. Again, I had often waited for James The Butler to come and tidy up when I was finished dining.

I do get distracted often by shiny, pretty things, like the seemingly immediate need to recycle old magazines or shop for post-holiday goods, but what I've learned in starting this is the concept of moderation. I used to scoff at moderation. I thought it was a boring concept. I mean, what is the fun of only partially doing something? But, I've found myself eating more healthfully, making better choices, and avoiding extremes. I've booted the all or nothing concept and see myself investing in my health. The idea of the lifelong marathon of health with hot abs is way more appealing than a crazed few week sprint. What would I do when the sprint was over?