I’m sitting here with my coffee eating this:
Isn’t anything called “Active Lifestyle” for grandmas? Well I’m not a grandma yet (not that I know of), but I do love this oatmeal. I might add some Metamucil to it so I can really be grandma-ish.
The only thing that made me laugh this morning was reading Remy’s World about Treadmill Myths. My favorite one is:
If you have sex on a moving treadmill, you can’t get pregnant: MYTH. You can, and probably will. Trust me on this one.
How would it even be possible to have sex on a moving treadmill? Maybe I am just not adventurous enough.
Yesterday Joie and I had a 6 mile run planned. I was headed out the door to her house when I got this text:
We went out anyway. After an hour in that arctic hell, my hands didn’t work. My mouth was so frozen I could not form words (not even “this shit sucks”), and joints I did not even know I had hurt.
So, no, I am not going out in that again today for my 9 mile run. Which means only one thing: Treadmill. I will not call it the “dreadmill” because apparently that is very uncool. I have spent way too much time on that thing this winter. Marathon training in January/February is icky, for lack of a better word. Am I being a whiny baby? Yes. Do I care? No.
In an effort to turn around my attitude, here is why I am excited to get on the treadmill.
- I might get a treadmill high
- I can wear shorts and will be warm.
- I can catch up on the news/tv shows. This is also called being a treadmill potato.
- I can smell someone’s sweat/farts other than my own.
- I can watch myself in the mirror because I look really *hot* while I’m running.
- I can listen to the boys in the weight room dropping 4,000 pound weights and grunting. So attractive!
- I can hop off and in and instant be in a warm bathroom stall if needed. And, it will be needed.
I have tried really hard, and this is all I can come up with. So, off I go!
Give me one reason you love the treadmill. Just try.
SUAR
