Does anyone like going to a gym? I don’t but we have a gym down the hall from us here and I’ve been taking a gym break each morning at 10:30 or so. Sandy spends most of the time on a machine where you sit and pedal. I walk half a mile on a treadmill and spend the rest of the time going from one machine to the next until I’ve done them all. I don’t know the names of them but on one you lift weight with your legs, then reverse and press the weights down. The next is for abs. You press weight down using your stomach, reverse, and lift them with your back. Comes the one where you sit and push out against weight with your legs. One where you lift weight over your head by reaching behind you to grab a bar and raise it, reverse and curl it with your arms. One where you sit and raise weight up with your arms. One where you sit and push weight out. And one where you pull weight down from over your head, reverse and pull it toward you with your arms.
At which point I’m much holier than thou and extremely grateful to totter to my feet and return to my computer. Why don’t we stick to this routine when we’re home? Because it isn’t down the hall I suppose. It requires driving to the gym, a longer intrusion into the day, and the perfect excuse to keep postponing until tomorrow.
For now, though, I’m smug and vainglorious about it. Don’t mess with me. I can open a jar of pickles and that’s what it’s all about.