Well, my first workout down.  I made it.  No major injuries or near-collapses, which beats my previous and rather abortive “return” to the gym in February.

I did two 30-minute bouts on the crosstrainer, interspersed with some stretching and a water break.  And I did it without resorting to the lowest level on the machine!  Surprise score!

And of course, the weigh-in.  The stated over/under was 212.  Those of you who bet the under can now see my associate, Guido, and collect your winnings.  The verdict was 201.  So I only have to lose ~20 pounds instead of ~35!  Double score!  True, I was without my weight lifting gloves and belt like my last weigh-in, and my new iPod is probably lighter than my old mp3 player, but still that’s maybe 4-5 pounds, tops.  I’ll take it.

Lessons learned:

1)  I love my buddy Michael.  There’s a great way to distract yourself from the fact that you’re basically spending an hour of your finite life on a glorified hamster wheel, and that’s WTF!’ing your way through a few albums of Finnish folk-metal.  Seriously.  Check this out. You owe it to yourself to spend 60 seconds of your life in WTF-land here.  (And as that genre of metal goes, this is actually pretty good.)

2)  I may someday be too blind, I’ll definitely one day be too dead, but I’ll never be too old to enjoy a quick glance at bouncing boobs on a treadmill.  Sorry, ladies.  Nothing personal.  If it makes you feel better, if instead of the standard ESPN talk shows on the cardio room TVs they’d been replaying this weekend’s World Superbike races (or, better yet, the last three laps of the Catalunya GP last weekend – gotta love the Italian announcers, eh?) I’d have never even noticed.

3)  Like a landing, any first workout you walk away from is a good one.  Am I right?


10 Responses to Survival!

  1. Kimmothy says:

    Yeah! (I almost wrote “You go, Boy!” but I hate when that saying is applied to girl, so I’ll refrain). That’s so cool your weight was lower than you thought – I had the exact opposite thing happen when I first stepped on the scale last week and wasn’t prepared for the shock.
    My only complaint about the bouncing boobs – you guys usually do get some good eye candy at the gym, while all we ever get are scary sweaty old round pimply gay or just plain ugly things to look at. I don’t blame you – I always look at the boobs too.

    • dyskinesia says:

      She meant to say, “Umm, except for you, of course!” 😉

      (sorry, falling all over myself laughing at that one — and no, baby, you only fit the “sweaty” part, hehehe)

    • Taoist Biker says:

      Kim – go work out at the university gym and the eye candy will be better. I sw’ar’s it. I go to the just-off-campus, ratty-ass, three-generations hand-me-down equipment gym because the meat market atmosphere of the really nice gym drives me nuts.

  2. crisitunity says:

    Finnish folk-metal?

    …Uh, I mean, good for you! Although the endorphins may be disguising what you’re going to feel like tomorrow…

  3. Laura says:

    Sigh. I’m so jealous. I wish *I* was eleven pounds lighter than the weight I anticipated I was when stepping on the scale. Usually it’s like, 3 lbs more in reality.

    Now. Do you do that, “UUUUUNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGHHHHHH” thing when you lift weights? If you DON’T, you totally have my permission to look at bouncing boobies. Though, hmm… I’m thinking Dys can veto that permission.

    • dyskinesia says:

      He can look at them all he wants as long as I’m not there. And no touching. And besides, they’re all young early college-type girlies, which makes him nigh a lecherous old man. By all means, look to your heart’s content. 😀

    • Taoist Biker says:

      I don’t do that. Haven’t I ever told that story to you? I should relay it in a full post sometime, but long story short, during one of my workouts a few years back, a couple of young and fairly buff-lookin’ college guys came in. They situated themselves on the preacher curl bench, right in front of the ponytails on the treadmills, and proceeded to load up the bar with obscene amounts of weight. I’ve never seen 45-pound plates on a curl bar before, and they added to that. I waited to see what would happen.

      They spent about 20 minutes doing curls, grunting and groaning for the audience while the spotter screamed and shouted and smacked the lifter in the shoulder so forth (the N-word was used loudly and liberally – both young men were black). Then they left and I never saw them again. The kicker? Put your right fist to your right shoulder. Now straighten your elbow until it’s a foot from your shoulder. THAT was the range of motion for their entire workout.

  4. Kimmothy says:


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