Aging ain't for sissies. Neither is chronic pain.

Posts tagged ‘stationary bike’

Burn!

Spring has exploded onto the scene and so have my thighs.  What the hell?  When did this happen and where was I during the process?  I could blame the long, cold, depressing winter for my idleness.  I could say I didn’t realize that Little Debbie snack cakes contain 1,376,975,243 calories (but I couldn’t say it with a straight face.)  I could hold the pan of fried eggs responsible for my newly acquired bubble butt.  I could but I won’t.

Winter was harsh in more ways than one.  I got lazy and my body has paid the price.  I used the excuse that due to the snow I couldn’t get out as much as I usually do, therefore I couldn’t get as much exercise.  I didn’t say it was a good excuse but it was the best I could come up with.

I got on the scale the other day and after I recovered from my coronary I insisted that Fred bring out my stationary bike.  The poor thing (the bike, not Fred) has been so neglected.  It was almost unrecognizable what with the quarter-inch blanket of dust covering it.  A little TLC and it was good as new.

After breakfast, a snack and brunch I decided it was time to get to work.  Recognizing that I get bored easily, I had to find a way to utilize the bike without losing interest so I employed my iPod Touch that holds so many of my favorite songs.  I quickly learned there are some songs that are not conducive to a good workout.  Solsbury Hill by Peter Gabriel does not have the same affect on me when on my bike as does The Eagles, Bon Jovi or Guns ‘n Roses (the weirdness that is Axl Rose notwithstanding.)

So I start out on my bike and think, “This isn’t so bad.”  Listening to my tunes I imagine biking my way to a firmer, slimmer me.  Then the inevitable happens…I feel a burn.  In my thighs.  The same thighs that suffer the repercussions of all the ice cream I ate over the winter.  The burn grew in intensity.  Son of a bi…!  I barely made it through the incredible guitar riffs in Hotel California when my thighs tapped into their inner Jestons cartoon and screamed, “Jane, get me off this crazy thing!”  I was determined not to quit but I pushed too hard, too fast, too stupid.  Not even Hootie & the Blowfish could kill the pain.

It didn’t take me long to learn my lesson about starting out slow.  I’ve stuck to my guns so far and am improving every day.  I may never again be as slim and trim as I was in my 20s but I’ve got a goal and that keeps me going.  In the meantime burn baby burn (Disco Inferno!), burn baby burn.

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