Just got back from a two and a half mile walk outside under a beautiful sunny sky - rare in an upstate New York January. Temp in the high 30's so didn't even have to bundle up. Was planning on going to the gym but decided to take advantage of the sunshine. As I walked along I was thinking again about the white team on The Biggest Loser and about the mom on that team who took such a bad fall because of her fear of water. I've conquered one of my own fears by joining and actually working out at the gym - but as I walked along I realize I have another fear to conquer. My two days at the gym have been spent on the treadmill at a respectable pace for a newly back person and on the elliptical at an embarassingly slow pace - but I know I will get better at that as my body gets used to moving every day. But there is another piece of equipment there that I am afraid of. The rowing machine. I really want to use this particular piece because I have a rowing shell and would like to be able to jump in and go the minute the water is warm enough - but there is a big problem. I know I would be able to get on the thing - it is low slung - sort of a shallow boat on the floor - so I could some how stand over it and aim my butt at the seat and just let myself plop down on it. And I know I could do the actual motion that is required - not well and not fast but at least I could do it. But then how in the world would I get up again? Just getting up from a chair at this point - at this lack of toned muscle - requires that I hang on to something to push myself up and out. Every time I have to do that I feel older than I am. I can't imagine how I would stand up from a seat on the floor with nothing to grab on to. The only possibility I see is that I would have to sort of roll over sideways and kind of fall out of the thing on to my knees and then figure out how to haul myself up from that attractive position. Now, if I were in my own basement and had to do that incredibly uncoordinated move that would be one thing - no one to laugh at me but the washer and the dryer and the water heater. But in the gym? Surrounded by tight butts and chisled biceps? I think that's a fear I'm going to have to wait a few weeks to try and face. Or at least wait until a day when the gym is either empty or almost empty. Almost empty meaning one or two other women in the same shape - or lack there of - as me.
Hey - back to 236 this morning! Four more pounds and a brand new book!