My day begins. I woke early to get myself put together for my first workout at the fitness center in my apartment complex. Long hair tied up and rockin’ the headband to keep my fly-aways at bay. Grey capris, blue tank, and good supportive shoes was my outfit of choice to start this little adventure. If I was gonna sweat, I would be as comfy as possible.
I woke my husband, Charles, and got him moving on getting ready for work as I loaded up my phone with workout songs. I definitely got more than I needed, but I always like to be prepared. Once he was ready, I drove him over to work (which is about 5 minutes away) then returned to the house. I sat in my car for a little while, listening to the morning radio show on 104.1 serving as psuedo-mediators to a couple ready for divorce.
“We’ve been married 10 years” says the man. He then said how he fooled around with her sister and her girlfriends. They had a son who was 14 or 15, he didn’t know.
“It’s been 18 years” says the woman. She knew her son’s age. She was just over his behavior.
To this point in the show, I didn’t see what his problem was aside from having a bad memory and him being a little bit of a ho. But then, the host asked if he wanted a divorce, to which he said, “Well, we made a promise to be faithful…”
It began! “Funny he mentions being faithful” she said. All hell broke loose! Allegations of cheating (he admitted it) and painkiller addiction followed, with a lot of ‘Shut your mouth, woman!” It was a train wreck, but I had exercising to do, so I pulled myself away and turned the radio off.
Let me tell you a little bit about myself before you read about the sweaty part. 🙂
I’m a 31 year old gal who lives in sunny Orlando (for about 9 years now). I have my degree in computer animation, but my dream job is concept art/character design. I do some freelance work from time to time, doing illustration and graphic design on the side. I’ve worked as a QA game tester, Scrapbook Paper and Die Cut Designer, and Greeting Card designer (as well as more retail jobs than I wanna remember).
I was born in Pennsylvania, to the world’s most awesome parents, as one of 6 kids. Our household was noisy and chaotic, and, despite all our issues, full of love (most days). My mom worked a lot, and my dad worked the same gig pretty much the entire time I was alive. I have 3 sisters and 2 brothers. I have 3 nieces and 3 nephews. I have a big family and I always try my best to make time for them even though I’m far away.
I got married to the love of my life, Charles, in March of 2013. He and I got together in 2004, but we’ve known each other since 1997. We met online, but not through eHarmony or any of those dating sites. My hubbs put it best when he wrote the story of our relationship for our wedding website (He’s a much better writer than I am):
“I first met Jaclyn in a forest, surrounded by strangers… But then I guess we were strangers at the time, too. It was a beautiful night, crisp and cool. My imagination was in full force, rendering this internet chatroom more vividly than any reality. As people around us chatted, we noticed each other and struck up our own conversation. I didn’t think much of it at the time… but I had made a new friend.
Over the coming months, we often. She became one of my most valued friends, and even though she rebuffed my flirtations (I was a teenager afterall), we kept in touch for years as I moved about the country and she fought with inconsistent internet access.
We met for the first time in person at the bus station. We were both nervous and anxious… but I did my best to exude confidence and keep my cool (I’ve been told I failed). She had the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen and her mild shyness was so cute. We made some awkward small talk as I proceeded to get completely lost trying to drive back to my apartment. I worked through the embarrassment eventually made it home, treating her to an amazing meal from McDonald’s along the way.
After a competitive few rounds of Soul Calibur, the nervousness was slowly fading away. I was becoming more and more convinced we could take the next step in our relationship.”
We’ve grown together over our 9 year relationship, and I
couldn’t imagine what my life would be without him. (I have imagined it – I would be a 31-year-old crazy cat lady living in my cluttered childhood bedroom in my parents’ house, probably working at wal-mart. Not what I had in mind for my life, though hanging with the folks would be great. Love them!) My fella is my rock and anchor. He’s the Bunson Honeydew to my Beaker. I’m ready to start our life together and hope to soon have a family.
We’ve hit some obstacles on the way, but the most recent is health related. I was diagnosed last year with Hypothyroidism. I’m still learning about it myself, but I got my first of the “take these once a day forever” medicines to treat it. My weight is an issue as well, which only got worse with the hypothyroid. My senior year: I weighed 180 lbs. I was no small girl, but I was tall, and I carried it well. 13 years later: I weigh 324 lbs. (as of this morning) and am startin to shrink, and all this weight is getting harder to carry, both in shape and in wear and tear of my joints, including my pair of problematic knees. Doc says I wear my knee caps like they’re berets. Not a shining endorsement of how great my legs are holding up.
TL:DR for you guys out there – Big girl from a big family goes to school, falls in love, gets married, wants family, discovers hypothyroidism, bad knees, wants to get in shape to get a grip on health and start that family with the awesome-est husband ever.
FINALLY – ON TO THE SWEATY PART! 😛
I decided that, while I am unemployed and spending so much time at home, I should try to get into shape. I want a family pretty badly. I’m not getting any younger. The world has painted an image in my mind of how if I have a child and I’m over 35, that child with come out as a cloud of dust from my uterus shriveling up like a raisin as I wither into old-lady-hood. The way ‘they’ make it sound, by passing 29, I am pretty much done with life. We both wanted to be married before we thought about having kids, and to wait for a time where we had the emotional and fiscal responsibility to care for someone more than we care for ourselves. I think it was the right choice, but it’s definitely not as easy to get preggers as my parents and teachers lead me to believe. (I know this isn’t always the case. Sometimes it is one-n-done, but I still feel lied to.)
After I turned off my radio, I hopped outta the car and hoofed it to the gym, whose door was locked. Like a crazy person, I cupped my hands to my face, and peered through the glass of the door. There were people in there! …All of which now probably thought “who’s the creeper outside watching me work out?” I meandered to the office for the code for the lock, and it was ON!
I found an empty treadmill and hopped on. Popped in my earbuds and dropped my bottle of water in the holder, and pressed “START”. It did nothing, so I pressed “START” again…about six more times. I looked up at the ceiling and thought, “Holy crap, I killed the treadmill. I got on it and it died.” That’s when I realized the speed was set to 0. I’m a genius, sometimes, lemme tell ya. I pushed the speed up to 1.5 and got to walkin’.
“SO SLOW” I thought, so I punched it right up to 4.
Even the little girl who came to work out with her mommy was giving me a look like “Girl, you’re gonna kill yourself on that thing!” She tilted her tiny head to the left, hands on her hips as if to tell me to set it right or get off of it before I hurt myself. The little lady was right, so I pulled the speed back to 2.5, then to 3. Three felt pretty good. I stayed at that speed for a little while, but ended up settling on 2.7.
“2.7 what?” I thought. “Is this measurement in miles?” There were miles listed in the display, as well as distance, calories, and LAPS. I don’t know the purpose of laps, really. I thought they’d be miles, like the distance and all, but they operated on a completely different scale. I watched them for a while, and was like “YES! 1 LAP COMPLETE” thinking I walked a mile, only to look to the right and find I had walked .2 miles. 😐 I was not amused. I’m still not amused.
So I kept on hoofing it. After about 5 minutes at speed, I was already sweating like I was in a sauna. “This is what death feels like, I bet. This very feeling, back and forth forever.” I tried to lose myself in my jams, not to think about the yelling I was getting from my limbs and internal organs.
Before long, I got to my first minimum exercise requirement – 15 minutes at speed. I slammed the COOLDOWN button sooooooo hard. My legs felt like fire, and I felt like I had just leapt into a pool filled with my own sweat. So unsexy.
So the stats for day:
FINAL SPEED: 2.7 miles/hour?
DISTANCE: .67 miles
CALORIES: 55 BURNED
WORKOUT TIME: 15 minutes, 2 minutes cooldown
Now to go undo it all by going to Popeye’s chicken for the first time ever. (I’ll have to work harder tomorrow. Also, pretty sure there’s a squirrel in my AC system. I can SO hear him crawling about in my ceiling. Not cool, squirrel, not cool.