Today, I decided that I was going to try something new and different.  So, I went to the gym.  Now, you should know that I have zero attraction to the idea of working out.  In fact, I intentionally didn't pack sneakers when I went on vacation just so that my sister couldn't try to make me do anything physical.  Being overheated and sweaty (ew!) just doesn't suit me and I've never understood the whole "endorphins" thing.  But nonetheless, I decided to give it a go, because toned legs might actually feel pretty nice.

          So, after calling and getting directions to the gym, I laced up my Nikes, slipped into some mesh shorts and worked out.  (I think?)  I'm not really sure what qualifies as a workout, but I pedaled through a half an hour on the bike machine (which told me that I did 12.5 miles) and then attempted to do some leg, butt, and abdominal exercises.  Those made my muscles feel as if some workout God (or Goddess) was squeezing them with all their might, so I think that's good!  Is exercise productivity measure in pain units?  If it is, then I've definitely succeeded.

          Beforehand, I was a bit worried that the gym would be full of people judging me, but instead there was only a small, beer-bellied, middle-aged man wearing cargo shorts and high-top Jordans.  I may not know much about workout couture, but I'm pretty sure that's not the correct attire sir.

          Though I'm still not a fan of salt water escaping from my pores, I do enjoy a bit of loud music, and of course the gym is the perfect atmosphere for an iPod, headphones, and my favorite Pandora stations; so perhaps working out wasn't all that bad.  Maybe I'll even do it again sometime!  For now though, I'm going to enjoy this bag of peanut M&Ms. (Yum!) I tried.


(P.S. Major props to people who do this and much harder every day. Damn.)