Now that we're settled and the husband is back from training, I've been looking for a gym. Going to gym, with all my ladies and the amazing instructors, in Kentucky for so long was going to be a hard act to follow. I willed Colorado to bring it so I could feel as at home and as worked as I love to feel at the gym.
The Coloradoites brought it. Fo sho.
These people? Serious about their fitness. And, I freakin' love it. That I know of, they have 4 major gyms on post, a 24 hour fitness about 8.5 minutes from our house, and numerous Bally's all over town. I was in gym-Heaven. It was a gym-orgy. GYM. GYM. GYM.
24 hour fitness was going to be $40/month. Not too terrible, & only $5 more a month than in KY, especially with how amazeballs their facility is, but I called a gym on post just for funsies. FREE.
That's right, party people. FUH-REE! So, we checked out all the gyms on post and people actually use them! Like, A LOT of people. Whodathunkit?! Although maybe differing in their layout, they all have enormous basketball courts, racquetball courts, big cardio room, numerous weight rooms, free classes, and two levels. OH MY!
Anyway, so I gym-it-up on post. Moral of that story.
Today, I was uber looking forward to my evening workout. Jake is feeling much better since this post about him really liking breathing and kindasorta upset about not being able to, but he's still a bit of a snot-face. Literally. Snot. on. his. face. But, it's clear. So, bueno, right? Anyway, we grocery shopped and it took me an hour and a half. It was one of those trips where you needed a little bit of everything and your shopping cart overflows and you consider leaving your full-cart in the middle of the aisle and leaving the establishment and picking up take-out on your way, all the while convincing yourself it's reasonable to eat out for every meal every day.
Ya know, like that.
So, we get home, unload thirty-two hundred bags, need to dry the nighttime doublers for Jake's diapers, and have 25 pounds of laundry to fold. Ya know, the uje. Except it's not in any way, shape, or form. As Gary says, I needed to empty my cup before it overflowed. I wasn't going crazy or anything, but it was definitely nice to know that I was going to be able to do something other than the necessities later that evening.
Ya know that feeling of being in a new place (aka, the gym)? Where you swear that everyone there are lifelong friends and you're the only person who doesn't know everyone else? Yep, me a little. I have this Scrubs moment where it feels like I walk in and there's this flashing, neon sign that visually yells "I'M NEW HERE!!!", much like the thought bubbles above the heads of cartoon characters---if you needed further specifications.
I get to the cardio room and, as I'm about to be spurred further into getting my sweat on by some Outkast ('Hey Ya' still does it for me. Don't judge), Journey, and one Mr. Justin Timberlake, I think how fab' it is to be out, that I have 4 different TVs to choose from, and I kind of sink into this amazing workout.
I come home, made it just in time to see the boy put to bed.
As I go to wash my face, feeling all fab' and very un-overflowed, and that great soreness that follows a thorough, self-inflicted ass-kicking, I see a booger on my forehead. Next to a small, but noticeable on my fair skin, clump of mascara.
If that doesn't scream, "I have a two year old!", I don't know what will.
Embarrassment could have set in. Until I realized: being out > boogers on your forehead.