Evelyn and I started went to the gym this morning, something we hadn’t done since November.

I couldn’t find my gym card this morning and fully expected to get lecture from Evelyn about it because she never loses hers. She never misplaces anything, the shrew.

Undaunted I approached the desk at the gym prepared to hear her diatribe and was told lo and behold they don’t require them anymore. Now they actually use you fingerprint. Apparently I wasn’t the only habitual membership card loser.

I was thrilled. Finally something I can’t lose and that I’ll always have with me. I gave the gym girl info as she scanned my index fingerprint into her computer. Then it was Evelyn’s turn. She was not so happy with the new system.

“It’s a little too Big Brothery for me.” she said.

Still like a good little camper she eventually acquiesced and scanned her fingerprint in as well. Since I’d driven a taxi for 3 weeks back in 70′s my fingerprints were already in a database somewhere, which was a good thing since it probably prevented me from a taking up a life of crime at some point.

The angels wept as we started up our treadmills. So did my thighs.

I did just over a mile today at an average speed of 3 mph. I varied the speed between 2.6-3.4.  The Houston Marathon is on Sunday. I could do it. It’d take me 7 hours and I’d be the only one still on the course by the end of the 7 hours, but I could do it.

I can’t run.

I can’t. I’ve never found a sports bra that has enough support. If I tried running now the girls would come flying up and black out both my eyes. It would be bad. Perhaps I could get the Army Corps of Engineers to design one that would have enough support…

But the good news is that the gym closest to me now has 4 Zumba classes a week. I’m excited. I’ve seen a Zumba class. It looks like fun. I know that by the end of class I’ll be melting like a snowcone in Phoenix, but that’s exactly what I need right now; and I like a group dynamic. There’s peer pressure to finish a class.

So feeling all good about myself after the treadmill and my 60 sit ups I got on the scale in my gym clothes and shoes while Evelyn was changing clothes. That POS scale was 10lbs. heavier than mine at home. 10lbs!

A skinny Minnie in the dressing room overheard my shriek and said “I never get on scale unless I’m naked and just went to the bathroom.”

That’s explains it!

I always been told I was full of shit. Now the scale just confirmed it.

Wednesday I called Evelyn and told her that I’d been to the doctor. We talked about my appointment for a bit and then I said “It’s time”. She let one sigh, and then another. Then she said “I knew this was coming”, resolutely. (She knew what was coming next). She didn’t want to hear it. “It’s been too long you know”, I said.  “I know, I know”, she said. “Tomorrow, then?” “Allright, allright. I’ll pick you up at 8am”.

So Thursday morning at 8:30 am, she came to get me with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. I said “Good morning”; and she said “Where?” And what was making my normally cheery friend surly? We not only started back at the gym yesterday; we also started eating healthy. I had an egg white omelette after the gym. She had a waffle, but only half. I know I’m finally back on track because although there’s a cupcake calling to me from the kitchen counter at this moment, I’m holding fast.

I thought I’d take the fitness test on the treadmill. I entered all my info and the belt started. I was in the warm-up cruising at 3mph. I thought everything was going pretty well until… the front of the machine raised dramatically and the speed increased to 4.5 mph.; 4.5 mph is no longer a brisk walk. It’s a jog, at least for me. For the first couple of minutes I did OK, although it sounded like a herd of elephants were running with me. After the first two minutes though, I decided that the benefit to my heart wasn’t worth the damage to my ta-tas. They hadn’t bounced that much in years. It was a bad thing. I still haven’t taken my bra off. (I’m almost afraid to). I’ve never found a bra that prevents bounce if you’re DDD.

I thought I'd aim for this look

Anyway, I think I’ll just let that cupcake  sit there and watch as it slowly petrifies. (I think it’ll petrify before it turns moldy). It’s really strange; once I’m being really good, nothing seems to tempt me. Although I’m keeping watch for bad Michele. (I really don’t need her showing up right now). She tends to pop in a lot, especially when she’s not wanted. If you want to read more about her exploits, just do a search for her at bodaciousboomer.com.

Anyway, tomorrow is the day. I absolutely hate starting back at the gym. Actually I hate it for about the first week. I go there  in my finest gym wear, a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt that way past  it’s prime.  I lumber onto the treadmill, get going and inevitably, some super fit person will hop on to the machine next to me and start running uphill like their pants are on fire. And to just put a cherry on my day, they don’t even sweat!

I wish there were two distinct sections in the gym- a section for those in shape and a section for those trying to get in shape. (It isn’t that I want to be labeled.) I want to freedom to choose what section I go to. But some days it’s just really hard when I’m doing a 15 min mile and the person next to me is doing a 7 min mile. I know, I know, I’m there for me, not for them…blah, blah, blah.

I did see this photo today and got inspired.  I think this is what I’ll work towards. Does she look really crazy or is it just me? This woman,  Cathy Jung, has a 15″ waist. Can you believe that? – 15 ” ! Miss Jung is just too “hourglassy” for me. (Honestly, I think she looks kinda scary.) I think I’ll keep my curves less severe, thank you very much.

This is NOT photshopped!

I set the treadmill for a cardio workout- 3.4 mph and 25 minutes. The digital display tells me that the elevation will adjust automatically to get and then keep my heart rate at 125. I turn on my IPOD, put the earbuds in and start listening to a mixture of Billy Joel, old disco and tunes from the 50′s. (It’s an eclectic mix.) When I put my hands on the treadmill the display said my heart rate is in the 59. A few minutes later I notice that the elevation is rising. That’s OK. It was expected. My heart rate is 63. The elevation rises again. Now it’s at 9. The digital display says my pulse is 65. I’m sweating like I’m participating in the Eco-challenge; it’s noon and I’m in the rainforest.

By now, I’ve pulled out the earbuds. I’m starting to wonder what’s going on. (I know I’m not in that good of shape. My heart rate by now should be at least at my target-125.) While I’m pondering, the elevation goes up to 11. I feel like I’m trying to run up the backside of Lombard St. in San Fransisco. The digital display says that the elevation is going up again. That’s it for me. I didn’t think to press the big, red STOP button. Instead I frantically start pressing the down arrow to reduce the is 138-well beyond what it should have been. Eventually I see the stop button and get off. On the plus side, I burned as many calories in 8 minutes as I usually do in 20- and I didn’t die. (Something I really wasn’t sure of just 10 minutes before.)

After Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride I walk over to the counter at the gym. I explain what happened and I’m given a surprised look. “Well that shouldn’t happen”, I’m told. (That much I had discerned myself, thank you very much.) What I found interesting though was that they didn’t go and put an “out-of-order” sign on the machine, or unplug it. So, even now, that treadmill lies in wait for another unsuspecting boomer. So the lesson today is -Don’t believe everything you see or you might wake up with Kurt or Tiffani zapping you back to life.