This is a picture of a treadmill dashboard. It’s blurry because I was walking without holding on. This fuzzy image represents a new era for me. June is my month to kick off my new wellness plan. My plan includes working out with a personal trainer twice a week. Before my first session with him, I needed to dust off my shoes on the old dreadmill. I describe it as cleaning before the cleaning lady comes.
I broke up with my gym in February. They were super nice but the commute became an obstacle. Meanwhile, my building has a new fitness center. For $9 a month, I’m a member. Right? It’s an elevator ride away. Despite the simplicity of the situation, it took the threat of June pending to get me in there this a.m. at 6:30am.
I’m ashamed to admit I have not been on the dreadmill in a long time. The official break-up was February but I severed ties on the exercise before the snow fell. I’ve been doing yoga twice a week and sun salutations 5 times a week. I’ve been serving which I absolutely think counts as a workout too. And as the weather has warmed up, I’ve been biking to and fro work.
Still, the dreadmill, it is what I call it. So, I wasn’t thrilled about getting back on it. Yet, I wanted to get comfortable with the home court advantage before my personal trainer invaded my space with his torturous ways. It took me several minutes to even program the damn thing but then I was off running… well, walking. I did 30 minutes at 3mph without holding on. And I did it during the wash cycle of laundry…BONUS! Even though it doesn’t sound like an impressive feat, I was pleased. It’s somewhere to start from.
I don’t like to overwhelm myself with lofty goals. I like to just get better. My wellness plan is to kick it up a notch. Sure, I’d like to lose weight but my main objective is to be healthier. I’m 50. I want to keep the old vessel in working order. And of course, if something goes down (terrorist attack, apocalypse, alien invasion), I want to be in optimal survivor mode.
I had a brief stint with a personal trainer right after my gastric bypass circa 2002. Five sessions gifted to me by supportive friends. It started out challenging and shifted into chit-chat…mostly about her life. It didn’t help that she was a tiny, blonde petite. I found her annoying and not motivating. This time around I’ve chosen someone who always challenges me to be better. This sh#t is about to get real.