Please Remove Your Bags

My gym has a cardio movie room, dark and dimly lit, huge screen for watching movies.  I usually have my music cranked.  I watch, rarely listen.  Too busy jammin'  to my tunes.  And then we have a cardio loft that overlooks the weight room below, with several TVs suspended from the ceiling along the front of the cardio machines.  Historically I’ve toggled from the cardio loft to the movie room when doing my cardio at the gym.

Since its inception, our gym has also had a track.  It’s covered in turf, not terribly long, but handy.  It's on the second floor also, and it overlooks the boot camp/Zumba room below, though you can only see that room when you’re on the short ends of the track.  Along each longer side of the track are little enclosed step-down sections with café tables/chairs, promoting casual conversations over a healthy smoothie or a bite from the Power Up Grill, which is also upstairs in between the track and the cardio loft.  Until lately, I’d never really used the track.  I think I walked on it for about five minutes once for a warmup.

But for the past few weeks, I’ve been using it for my running.  I’ve discovered it’s FAR easier on my joints and knees than running on the pavement in our neighborhood.  And yes, it gets a tad boring running around in circles, hamster-like, but as long as I have good music on my MP3 or iPhone, I’m good to go.  I miss the fresh air...I miss the moon 

-- love the moon! -- but that cushy turf is the draw! 

So I’ve been working on building up my endurance.  If you don’t run regularly, you lose your stamina.  And I want to get back to running a solid 30 minutes without stopping.  So I’ve been slowly building back up.  My mantra this morning…

Just breathe…

you got this…

this is nothing…

Look at you...

you’re floating like a kite…

That's it...just breathe.  

That’s what I do.  Mind games.  Constant mind games, whether lifting or cardio, when it starts to break me down, I fight back with mind games.  Mantras.  Self-talk.  And music.  Gotta have that music.

I ran for 22 minutes, then headed to the weight room and got in 40 minutes of back and ab work, including one hamstring/glute exercise thrown in for good measure.  Circuit training, higher reps, minimal rest.

When I left the gym this morning, I was still floating a few inches off the ground.  I almost have to work at suppressing a loud and sustained  “YESSSSSSSSSSS!” as I’m walking to my car.  My head was clearer, my mind emptied of the muck and misery.  It’s like a Happy shot.  Yep, I gotta have that Happy shot.  Time for my Happy shot again.  It’s the best medicine on the planet. 

I was at Walmart a couple of days ago -- I don’t like shopping there and avoid it as much as possible.  My son insisted that we get more green Christmas lights so he could finish his masterpiece on the front lawn.  So I was taking the long route from the Lawn & Garden over to the Groceries when I passed by the TV/Electronics/DVD section.  I couldn’t help but notice how crowded that department was.  And as I began checking out the customers flocking in and around, it dawned on me.  Look at them!  Every single person in that section was overweight.  Noticeably overweight.  And I began to ponder on that…  They’re google-eyed about the TV’s, the DVD’s… that’s THEIR medicine.  They're in their glory.  Give 'em a big screen, a big comfy couch, a stack of DVD’s, a remote control, and a bag of chips, and they're in paradise. 

Attention, all you movie-watchin' 

TV-addicted, 

lazy, brain-numbed shoppers!  

Have we got a deal for you!  

Free chips and sodas with every $50 purchase!

They don’t have a care in the world that their pastime is exacerbating their weight problem.  An endless stream of commercials, seducing them into eating more and more fattening, artery-clogging food, as they poke it in and change the channel, hour after hour, totally oblivious to what it feels like to get up off their asses and move every now and then, take a walk.  Just.get.up.  WAKE up.  BREATHE!

For each their own?  I guess.  But as a tax payer, I’m having to pay for their health problems that are self-induced due to their passive lifestyles.   And that ruffles my feathers a little.  No, a lot.

I made my way to the self-checkout lane and scanned my few items, bagged them, and finalized my purchase.  As I was gathering my three plastic bags of items, surely no more than 2-3 seconds after the transaction had ended, the little robot voice very emphatically snipped (yes, it snipped, I'm sure of it), “Please remove your bags.”  

I guess I was taking too long.  And I don’t waste time, for the record.   It’s the way I roll, constantly planning my next move.  Time's a wastin'.

“Please remove your bags.”  Really?  I half expected the next outburst directive to be “Please get the hell out.”

I wonder how long the robot shouts at those shoppers in the TV/Electronics department, I giggled to myself as I headed out the door.   

Oh, how I do not like being at Walmart.   I was already feeling the stress beginning to smother me.  C’mon, gotta get out of here.  Just breathe and keep walking.

Don’t worry, Lady Robot.  I’m gone!