All My Gettings

Since this time two years ago, I have gained roughly 30 pounds. I'm not sure the cause of this increase in mass, but it probably has something to do with the fact that my sweet tooth requires a barrel for me to get from place to place. Maybe.

In order to counteract my inevitable expansion, I've taken to attempting to go the gym regularly. Notice that I'm not actually in the habit yet, but I am in the habit of trying. The main problem right now is that I work at 7.45 am. Which means, getting to the gym by 6.30 if I want it to be worth it. And, because I work someone between the boondocks and the back of beyond, such an early arrival at the gym means waking up before six am. The early morning and I do not get along. My bed rarely feels cozier than it does when my alarm goes off.

But the wee hours of the morning is not the only impediment to my aerobic endeavors. I'm also hideously out of shape. I get winded opening doors sometimes, so you can imagine how hard a treadmill is for me. I was swimming nearly daily when I was up in Canada, To be fair, I do have some respiratory problems, so it's not all just lack of practice. Fortunately, the gym I go to is one that is preferred by the elderly and/or equally infirm. When I'm there I feel downright hale. Until, of course, I notice that the octogenarians are using heavier weights on the machines than I am.

I made it out this morning and even got the one good elliptical machine, though I was a touch later than I'd like. I did my thing and showered (the shower facilities of this gym could be the subject of another post, but I'll just say this: I've never seen a spot more apt for fungal growths). When I entered my car I notice something odd: blisters. On my palms. I wasn't even going that hard this morning and I was only at it for about 25 minutes. Maybe if I'd ever done a day of work in my life this wouldn't have happened. Or maybe I should just take it as a sign and give up now before I seriously damage myself.