Yesterday I went to the gym for my first official every-day-from-now-until-the-conference workout. I spent 30 minutes on the tredmill-walking fast. When I cranked the tredmill up to a slow jog, my heart rate shot up dangerously high and the machine actually sent me a warning to slow down... Nice. So an additional goal of mine this month is to improve my cardiovascular fitness. I'm not going to be competing in so much as a sack race if I don't the heart rate situation under control.
And I want to go on record as saying that I hate going to the gym. I hate being around the girls whose bodies are fine-tuned perfection. I hate the lyrca. And I hate being hot, sweating, and moving my legs but going nowhere--in that order. Our new gym, however, is brand new with state of the art workout equipment--including tredmills and bicycles with built in TVs and fans. Now instead of focusing on muscles, and lycra, I can turn on the TV and watch something other than Thomas the Tank Engine for however long I'm willing to keep moving. Plus I get that time free of baby care, with no one interrupting me, crying, throwing a tantrum, or asking me to stop and get them anything. Now the gym is an escape.
It occurred to me also, that on a day to day basis, the hour that I can put the boys in the gym's nursery is the only break from childcare that I get in a day. I not only need to go to the gym for my body's sake, I need to go for my sanity's sake as well. No one can prepare you for the constant onslaught of neediness that comes with having two children. I am needed from the moment I wake up to almost the precise second that my head hits the pillow and only get minutes of time to myself, if ever. The gym is my saving grace.