I've discovered that being woken up by my children frantically wanting breakfast and help finding their school shoes is not the gentlest entry into my day. Last Spring, I started waking up at 5:30 every morning to exercise. It's honestly more for my sanity than anything else but something has been bothering me lately and I need to know if I'm overreacting.
The majority of people at the Y that early are over 80 and pretty spry. There's Al who tells me about his girlfriend and brings me tomato plants and Jack who gets mad at the news. Both ride the stationary bike and score on each other like a couple of teenage ghetto boys. "You actually combed your hair this morning!" or "You're late, that'll be an extra five minutes for you!" Love them.
There is a man who comes every so often, not every day mind you, and thinks of himself as a little bit of a fitness guru.
Sometimes, when I'm lifting weights, he'll tell me how I need to do more reps or do my crunches a different way. That's fine. I can take some constructive criticism.
But, every time he sees me, no matter how much I'm sweating or how hard I'm breathing, he'll say, "I saw you over there getting your little workout on."
Getting my 'little workout' on?
I'm dying. Sweating and gasping for air and he's calling it my 'little workout'.
I'm sure he's just trying to make conversation but, sometimes, when I'm on the elliptical machine about to pass out, there's a dark little part of my heart that wishes I could be like Sydney Bristow on Alias for just one day. I'd flip him over my shoulder and then stand over him and say, "HOW'S THAT FOR A LITTLE WORKOUT?!?"
Maybe I need to spend a little less time at the gym and a little more time in the Word.