Guess what? I'm exercising! I'm an exerciser. Yeah. For. Real. (Well, I'm an exerciser if you call going to the gym twice now being an exerciser. But I think that counts, and I dare you to tell me otherwise.)
When we moved to this house, we were automatically members of the fitness center. It's included in out Homeowners Association dues. My husband, who, in case you didn't know, used to be a power lifter (and still lifts mighty powerfully), was ecstatic that the gym was right here in the neighborhood. That meant he could go workout, finally, while being close to home. And so he started going. I, on the other hand, wanted to start, but never really went. I was full of excuses about how the kids didn't have anywhere to go, or I was too tired, or there was too much to do.
Well on Monday night my father was here to watch the kids, and my husband said, "let's go." So I did. And I had fun. Really! I had never exercised on an elliptical trainer, and I found it very enjoyable. (Ha! It's funny that I find a piece of exercise equipment enjoyable.) And I love a treadmill. Last night we actually took the kids to the childcare center there, and I exercised again. Which makes me officially an exerciser. Yippee!
The stuff that I had to do that previously kept me from going to the gym? Well, it's still not done. And I'm thinking that this gym thing will never become a 5 night a week kind of thing for me. But maybe a couple of nights a week, with a weekend morning thrown in here and there will be enough to keep my heart pumping and my veins fairly unclogged. Wish me luck. And go get yourself onto one of those elliptical thingies. That is some serious fun. But be careful if you pedal backwards for the first time and try to gesture wildly with your arms while explaining something. It could be embarrassing. I'm just saying.