I hate New Year's resolutions now. I used to like the idea of having a goal for the year, only to piss away any chance of reaching that goal within a couple of weeks. It made me feel very motivated, for exactly those two weeks. But starting in 2009, I wasn't going to do that sort of thing anymore. Instead, I was content to live with my mediocre expectations year-in and year-out.
Weirdly though, this year Jordan's new apartment lease happened to start the first of year, and coincidentally the apartment complex opened up a kick-ass new gym right there on the grounds within a week of his move-in. Thus, I have inadvertently wandered into a kept-resolution-type scenario, insofar as I have been going to the gym regularly for two months now starting January 1. It probably only counts as the Alanis-Non-Irony kind of justice, but I like it anyways.
Spoons when you want a knife :: keeping a resolution only after disavowing them forever.
I should write a song.
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Last week Jordan was feeling under the weather, so I ended up going to the gym alone on Monday. I've taken a new approach to gym-work this time, focusing on running and similar cardiovascular things instead of weight lifting. Mostly because lately I've been really worried that when the zombie apocalypse comes, I will be way too far out of shape to outrun the mindless hordes of brain devourers. And everyone knows that muscles don't do any good against a screaming army of the undead. The only real hope is to escape - something that my easily-winded-by-a-short-staircase self would be unable to accomplish.
So running it is.
Usually I hate it, but I've slowly been getting better, at least to the point where I no longer want to projectile vomit after every 30 minute session. I started at 2 miles, then upped it to 2.5 after a month, and on Monday I was shooting for the full 3 miles, only mildly worried that my heart might explode right there in front of the scary yoga lady and her even scarier devotees.
I made it through both of the first two miles relatively easily, spurred on by my excellent iPod Zombie Escaping Playlist(TM). The third mile was by far the hardest, and I was starting to seriously drag. Not even mind-conjured images of 26 Days Later were helping. By that point the yoga class had dispersed, it was only me, one girl on a treadmill, and a guy in the weight lifting area left in the gym.
To understand what follows, you have to understand that I really hate running. Really. The only way I can convincingly keep myself going when I'm tired is to sync in with the music I'm listening to and focus on a fixed point in the mid-distance. A proper mix-tape (such as my ZEP) will be properly calibrated to pick the most likely point of exhaustion (minute 22) as the time to start rising - faster songs, louder, more bass, a good drum set, and I can usually power through to the end. The only side-effect to this is that I might sometimes get a little too into the music.
Not like singing along (I avoid at least that much), but I may swing my arms more forcefully to the beat, or do a little swaying/head bobbing along with the running. It probably looks a little weird (and gives off the impression that I may at any point collapse and/or fall off the moving treadmill) but it works.
Except in this particular instance, I was sweating so profusely that I had to set my iPod up on the treadmill display, cannily thinking that it might slip from my overly-slick hand mid-run, causing disaster and loss of being in the Music/Running Zone.
Item that I did not consider: Placing the iPod on the display left a conspicuous and intrusive white cord from my ears down to the treadmill. And in my Zoning, I overly emphasized the shooting part of M.I.A's Paper Planes with my arms, and swung right through the cord.
From what I can work out (CSI-style in my mind), the recreation of the physics worked thusly: My left arm swung down, yanking the cord to the iPod with it. The earbuds, being far more secured than the iPod itself, held in place. So instead the iPod was pulled down with the cord - only when it reached the edge of the display it popped upwards before it's eventual downward fall. At which point it disconnected from the headphones entirely, shot out projectile-like over my shoulder, behind me, across the gym, and then skidded to a stop at the feet of the guy over in the weights area.
This whole scenario took approximately 1.2 seconds, plus skidding time.
In reaction I glance back and forth like a dog shaking water off its head, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I finally twist my head all the way around and see the big muscle-bound guy with his head cocked and staring at the strange tiny red device in front of him with a confused look on his face. I lose my balance on the treadmill and manage to artfully twist my left ankle before recovering an eighth of my dignity by not face-planting right then and there. I extract myself from the machine, and sheepishly go collect my iPod from the mildly amused but still confused guy, apologizing like mad and trying not to fall over dead from exhaustion/embarrassment.
Both he and the girl on the other treadmill eye me warily as I walk back to my machine, both still unsure as to why I seemingly threw my iPod across the room at him. Rather than attempt an explanation (I've learned that it never goes well) I just apologized again and tried to finish up the end of my run, limping like a crazy man. I abandoned the attempt after a couple minutes, and bolted from the room, never to return.
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Actually I still go back (it's a really nice gym). But now whenever I walk in, I'm perpetually terrified that either of them will be there and soon the whispering and pointing will begin. Hushed words about 'iPod throwers' will swirl around me and I'll need to run away, possibly crying, and deciding the change my name and appearance.
But so far that hasn't happened. And now I've switched over to the elliptical machines, which don't hurt my ankle and more importantly keep my hands occupied at all times, so everyone can see that I won't be throwing any musical devices anytime soon.
That way everyone wins.
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