Cowboy and I had aimed to go take the dog out for a walk and Chuck-It in the park. After showering and starting to get dressed somehow we landed back in bed, me with one sock on and one bare foot, slumbering the day away. We had both felt pretty lethargic all day. Maybe it was the temps in the teens, a dry calm chill to soothe us into staying in the coziness of the house or the after effects of night shift work. I don't know but it was as if a cloud of sleepy potion settled about the room and suddenly the two of us, the dog, AND the cat were all snoring away. A picture reminiscent of the book "The Napping House". It was magnificent to great proportions.
Two and a half hours later we all woke, wiping the drool from our cheeks, and gazing about the room in a "what happened, where am I" moment. However, we both agreed we felt 110% better so we must have really needed the sleep. After walking the pup we had a bright idea: let's head to the gym. The weather was too cold and the day light was fading for any significant productivity.
We failed to recall that it was a mere eleven days post new years and the emerging of (as one of my blogger buddies calls them) "resolutionaries". We opened the doors to the gym and were met by what can only be described as The Ant Farm. Little bugs crawling all over the gym equipment. Huffing, puffing, stepping frantically while hanging onto rails, poor body mechanics left and right, and everyone had a Nalgene in hand. It was frightening. We walked slowly over to the treadmills for a warm-up and, for the very first time, I had to WAIT. I know I have been spoiled as this is usually a normal occurrence for some, but I really try hard to hit the gyms with the least amount of members without skimping on the novelties.
Cowboy, seeing my slacked jaw gently, lovingly, and wordlessly, took my elbow and started to steer me back to the door. I stopped, snapped my jaw stubbornly, and told him I would wait. Us going home to my treadmill would do him no good for a work out and that would be selfish of me. I would wait.
One treadmill sat lone and empty on the perimeter's edge. A few people climbed up onto it's platform, punched away on it's dash, only to step off with irritation. I had seen this before and had a light bulb moment. I walked up to that treadmill as one frustrated girl got off declaring, "that one doesn't work!" and stepped on up to that treadmill, ignoring the "line."
Side note: Was that bad of me? Am I really a major "gym rat" douchebag? Who declares there must be a line anyways, there's no rule or sign...I takes a treadmill as I sees it and recommend everyone else does the same. And yeah, I'm that person that ignores the dumb 30 minute rule in a gym stacked with treadmills and doesn't wipe off my equipment- it's a flipping gym people, there is sweat everywhere and that is the wonderful glory of it. Breathe in the funk...it's aromatherapy for the soul.
Cowboy stood there looking at me as I reached down to the base of the treadmill and swiftly hit the Power button. The treadmill sprang to life as the display lit up like a carnival and motor purred.
Some days I amaze myself at how fucking brilliant I am.
I take lessons from my cat.