Salamander on a Treadmill
I am not made for the active life. The Professor and I checked out the YMCA’s gym last night using the one week free trial membership they gave us. There are a few machines I recognize from physical therapy, but I have no clue what most of those machines are. I stuck to using things I was already familiar with.
I didn’t like the fact that there was no warm-up/stretch area. The floor is completely taken up by equipment. I’ve learned the hard way from PT that it is a majorly dumb idea for me to just start in without stretching – I’ll pull muscles really easily if I try that. I used one of the bikes to warm up with, which at least loosened my legs. I then concentrated on quad-stregthening exercises that I was already familiar with, then used the treadmill for some more cardiovascular and cool down. Getting a personal trainer for at least a little bit is going to be a necessity though. And next time I need to bring my Walkman CD player. The music there is atrocious, and all they have on the television sets is sports stuff.
The Prof says I’m oversensitive, but I was the oldest in there by at least ten-fifteen years. I also was the slowest. I had to reset all weights to a half or a third of what the machines were set on when I got to them. I was the only one walking the treadmill (I swear to God everyone else was running marathons on those things). I wonder if they have a special session for older and slightly decrepit but not yet completely over-the-hill people.
By the way, Daffy – The Professor kept humming “YMCA” under his breath when I was the only one who could hear. *sigh*
Meanshile, the Kitten from Hell has been at the Star Trek action figures again. This time it was Worf who got the worst of it and ended up in the middle of the floor. Data put up a fight and was lying on his face on the top of the book case. Counselor Cleavage had been spun about a bit, and was standing with her back to the other figurines as though she were fed up with the whole nonsense. I can’t speak to her actual feelings about the proceedings, but I know The Professor is considering Fillet o’ Kitten as his next masterpiece.
The little nimrod also bit the flowers off my jade tree. I’m really pissed about that, because I’ve never had a jade tree that flowered before, and I was going to take pictures. In spite of her wicked, wicked ways, she’s turning into a beautiful cat. I’m going to have to come up with a new name for her soon; it won’t be long until “Kitten from Hell” simply won’t fit her any more.