I don’t want to get into fat shaming because that’s bullshit, but I’m not happy with the shape of my body. I’m also suffering from depression brought on by financial instability. So this morning I decided to exercise. This was probably the first serious workout I’ve had since, oh, 2008, 2010, sometime around then. My apartment building has a small gym with a cool elliptical I wanted to try out, so at about 8:30 in the morning I went down there and gave it a shot.
At the start, I thought “I’ll go for 30 minutes and then see how I feel, see if I want to go to 45.”
At minute ten, I was firmly in the aerobic phase, and feeling pretty good.
At minute twenty, I was having second thoughts about this “let’s go to 45” plan.
At minute twenty five I was counting seconds.
At minute thirty, with some feeling of triumph, I slowed and then came to a stop. I took a step off the elliptical and nearly fell over. I had just entered Noodle Leg Town, Population Me. After two minutes of stretching during which I developed serious concerns about my ability to climb the stairs to my apartment again, I made my way out of the gym, legs shaking and knocking at every step.
Tomorrow I’m going to do another thirty. It’s pretty satisfying to feel that first bead of sweat fall down the side of my face.