A Mini (Pseudo) Triathlon.

24 Hour FitnessYesterday, I spent 3 hours at the gym.

As I’m officially on a short, unanticipated, much-dreaded hiatus from all things pounding of pavement, I took matters into my own hands and tried to recreate a 20 mile run…without actually running. I rowed 10,000 meters, hopped on the elliptical for 5 miles, slid my a** into the pool for a few quick laps and ended my stint in the steam room. Did I burn the same amount of calories? Not even close. Did I put up 20 miles? No. But you do the best you can with what you have available to you, right?

I never spend more than an hour or so at the gym at a time. My M.O. is to get there by 5:00 am and run back out the front door with my hair on fire by 6:15 am so I can make it to my desk on time.

In general, I get in, do what’s mine to do, and get the freak out.

Truth be told, I DO peek at a few of the guys in the weight room while I’m there. Not b/c they’re cute, (I can’t see that far), but b/c their biceps are ginormous. (Yes, I CAN see that far.) Anyhoo…

When you spend 3 hours at the gym, you are privy to some crazy sh*t.

My first leg, 6.21 miles on the rowing machine, was uneventful. (It was still early.)

During the second leg of my mini-tri, I ended up on the elliptical machine directly behind a guy who was power walking on the treadmill. Normally, I’d have paid no mind. But this guy was rockin’ a hairdo that rivaled Richard bloody Simmons. (Think HUGE, curly, 3-4 inches long, bald on top…you catch my drift.)

He wasn’t sporting the flag shorts, but he WAS wearing khaki’s. (For the love of all things holy. Let’s agree not to do THAT.)

As I watched his hair flail around begging for better options: a new cut, some stiff product, whatever, I couldn’t help but notice how many people swung by to “check in” with him. Over the course of 50 minutes, I’d guess 25 people stopped to say hey. The only conclusion I could draw was that he’s the underground PIMP of my 24 Hour Fitness. (That, or everyone was asking for copies of Sweating To The Oldies. It’s anybody’s guess. But I digress.)

My last leg was in the pool. As I’m preparing to slide my half neked a** into the water, a very nice old lady, (showing off her one-piece no less), threw her arms in the air and declared, “You only have 10 minutes Missy. We have EXCLUSIVE use of the pool when our class starts at 9am.” (She was gravely serious.)

I get in and do as many laps as my body is able in the allotted time. (It was hardly worth getting wet for, I assure you.)  At 8:59:59, to save myself from four dozen, swimsuit clad women all vying for an underwater workout, I fly out of the pool, grab my towel and dive in to the steam room. I made it all of 4 minutes and called it quits.

Yesterday was the first Saturday in what feels like a LIFETIME that I didn’t run. I missed the road. I missed the ache in my bones that only comes from chasing a big number. I missed the sense of satisfaction I have after a run well done.

Okay, I missed my post-run margarita AND my 2-hour nap, too.

Almost every day for the last 3 years, I’ve taken running for granted. I never worried if I would run, or better yet, I never worried if I could. But this forced-upon-me-chasm has me seeing things differently:

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I won’t lie — yesterday I was a full on b*tch. I’m irked, sideways and all kinds of out-of-sorts that I’m 21 short days from burning down Marathon No. 2 and I’m stuck in the gym doing a mini-freakin’-pseudo-triathlon.

That said, I’m reminded to be grateful for every last thing running has given me this year.

And it always gives more than it takes.

ONWARD!

Brook

P.S. When you can’t run, what’s your workout? I’d love to know — and I could use a few fresh ideas! Come chat me up at www.Facebook.com/BrooksFirstMarathon

P.S.S. After dozens of emails from you, Friday I called to get an appt. with a specialist. Fingers crossed and I’ll keep you posted. 

P.P.S.S. Listen, There are only 23 days left in my 90 Day No Excuses Challenge. For the love of all things holy, don’t miss your chance to win a VIP Sole to Soul day with me in Denver! (I may never do this again — seriously.) Click here to get started or log your activity.

So you may have heard damn near half the state of Colorado is under water. It’s full blown chaos over here. Hubs, Midas and I are fine, but please send prayers to the peeps who are affected. xo.

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