I didn’t want to work out today, but my new workout partner Mommy Dearest* totally guilted me into it. To encourage myself I decided to bring a book. The one I’m currently reading is Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson (aka The Bloggess) and I figured the humor would make the time go faster. I had no idea what a dangerous idea this was.
Today’s training plan was: 5-minute warmup, followed by (1) 90-second run (2) 90-second walk (3) 3-minute run (4) 3-minute walk (5) repeat 1-4. To some of you, 3-minutes of running probably sounds like nothing at all, but remember I have never been a distance runner so 3-minutes of running is actually the longest stretch I have run in a very long time. The first cycle wasn’t as bad as I expected.
I started out reading the chapter called “I Am the Wizard of Oz of Housewives (In That I Am Both “Great and Terrible” and Because I Sometimes Hide Behind the Curtains)”. This chapter was just funny enough to make me smile and make the running time go by faster. I was just in the middle of congratulating myself on having the brilliant idea to read this book while exercising when I realized the flaw in my brilliant plan. That flaw lay within the chapter titled “The Psychopath on the Other Side of the Bathroom Door”.
Before I was even halfway through this chapter I was choking back the laughter because people tend to look at you rather strangely if you start laughing out loud on the treadmill. By the time I got to the second 3-minute run, I was doubled over on the treadmill because apparently laughing and running simultaneously is physically impossible. Who knew? I was about two steps away from falling off the back end of the treadmill. I’m probably lucky to be alive right now. Mommy Dearest said she glanced over at me and thought maybe I was just taking a break because I was tired from the running. It’s a good thing she’s mostly deaf in one ear and was wearing headphones as well, because I’m sure if she had heard the choking, spattering, snorting noises I was making she probably would have called 911. Frankly I’m amazed that no one else in the gym even seemed to notice. Unless they did notice, and chose to ignore me because they thought I just had Tourrette’s Syndrome or something.
At any rate, I think I had better come up with a plan B for the next workout because I don’t think my abdominal muscles could handle the strain again of trying to stay upright and running while laughing hysterically.
*So named because she is my mother. But don’t be fooled by the nickname; she is nothing like THAT Mommy Dearest, except that she doesn’t have any wire hangers in her closet as far as I’m aware. As you probably know from my last post, she is actually pretty awesome.