Seven Minutes

So, I spent some time thinking about what to write about for today's entry. I had some decent ideas, but nothing that really jumped out at me. I should have known... if you build it, they will come. In this instance "it" being my blog, and "they" being the topics. I don't go to the topics, the topics just come to me. Or happen to me, whatever your preference.

We're going to do this Memento style.

End Scene: "Damn you, Spin Nazi, damn you!"

How did we get from point A, just a regular tuesday to point B, the statement above? Let's start at the beginning.

Today was just another Tuesday. Nothing special or interesting about it, but I was feeling a bit guilty after R and I indulged in a few freshly baked snickerdoodles. Okay, 20. In one sitting.

I previously mentioned that R and I joined The Gym in hopes of accomplishing our "December Declaration" (Because I don't believe in New Year's resolutions. They always fail.) to get into better shape. And now, because of 20, delicious, warm, cinnamon-y snickerdoodles, you can add Project "Get Un-Fat 2010" to that Declaration. Neither of us are fat in the true sense of the word, but we can definitely err on the side of lazy. Especially when it is cold out. Pair the snickerdoodles with the fact that I haven't broken a sweat since I was working with a personal trainer in July... and I've gotten a little soft. Haven't gained any poundage, per se, but I'm not very... defined. And really? My vanity outweighs laziness. Every time. Oooh, something shiny! Can I check my reflection!?

So, okay. Hop to it! Snickerdoodles be damned, I am getting to the gym today come Hell or high water. And cardio machines really can't keep my attention for more than 15 minutes at a time. Especially when I'm sweating. Ok, then I need to find something else. I've tried a few classes, and even though it makes me want to cry and vomit and sweat and excrete various other fluids from orifices yet to be named, I am trying desperately to get into, and enjoy, Spin Class.

This morning, I perused The Gym website and found the schedule for today's exercise classes. Spin class at 5:30 and 6:30. Perfect. I'll hit up the 5:30 class, because I can pop into The Gym on my way home from work around 4:30 to sign up for the class. Yes, apparently the Spin class is so popular that The Gym puts out a sign-up sheet 1 hour prior to the class, which you must sign to obtain that coveted spot in Spin class.

On my drive home, I stopped briefly (read: an hour) at Sports Authority to purchase a gel seat cover for the spin bike's ROCK HARD SEAT, which last time hurt me in the no-no place. For about 5 days. Some people I know that do spin class suggested padded bike shorts. But, really? I can't possibly see myself shelling out my hard earned cash for a garment that has the potential to make my ass look BIGGER. Thanks for playing, but no, I'll opt for the seat cushion.

Suffice it to say that I am completely BAFFLED by the layout of the Lakeview Sports Authority. Right when I walk in the door, I am slapped in the face by a display of about 1 million beanies. I love beanies!!! Must. Stay. On. Task. Ok, phew, I survive the beanie bonanza and proceeded to wander the store for at least 45 minutes (30 of which may or may not have been spent trying on 7,000 North Face fleeces. Ooooo, pretty! Soft!) in search of the seat cushion. In that time I found bowling equipment, but couldn't for the life of me find the cycling gear. WTF? Well it's tucked wayyyyyy back in a far corner of the store. Come on, Sports Authority, I would bet that there are considerably more cyclists in the Chicagoland area than there are competitive bowlers. You could make that stuff a little more accessible. I'm just sayin...

Anyway, I purchased the cushion and check the time... 4:15, perfect I'm right on time to get to the gym at 4:30 to sign up for the class, then run home (not literally), take the dog out for pees and poops, change into workout gear and head back to the gym for the class at 5:30. I leave Sports Authority and arrived in front of the gym at 4:23. Meh, close enough. I made my way inside, pushing the elderly and small children out of my way to put my name on the list. When I got to the front desk, I had the pleasure of speaking with who I will now refer to as "The Spin Nazi." Why, you ask? Our interaction went a little like this.

T: Hi, I'm just looking for the sign up sheet for the 5:30 spin class.

Spin Nazi: It will be out at 4:30.

T: Um, but it's so close. And I just wanted to pop in on my way home from work so I can get changed and be on time...

Spin Nazi: (Condescending tone) Yeah.... it will be out at 4:30.

T: It's 4:23 right now.

Spin Nazi: (Disinterested) Yeah.

T: So, basically..... in 7 minutes.

Spin Nazi: (Condescending) Yeah, it will be out at 4:30...

T: Great. Then I guess I'll just go wait in my car. For 7 MINUTES.

End Scene.

Well, I waited my 7 minutes, and when I went back in, amazingly there wasn't a pushing-shoving match to get to the list. In fact, I was the first person on the list. But, yeah. It will be out at 4:30.... Moving on.

I rush rush rush to get home and walk the dog quickly (he has a tendency to dawdle when he knows we are headed back to the house, so I allow at least 20-25 minutes for a leisurely stroll around the block) and change into clothes appropriate for sweating.

Everything was a go, I was running perfectly on time to leave the house at 5:10, to arrive at the gym and get a good locker well before 5:30. We stopped along the way to dispose of his bag of waste-product in a trash can. One of those big plastic ones on wheels. Poop deposited, we headed back to the house. We got to the stairs. I reached in my pocket for my keys. Not there. Other pocket. Not there. Pants pockets? Nope. Umm... okay let's retrace the steps. I was worried I'd dropped my WHITE keychain in the WHITE snow... in which case I'm up shit creek. Plus, it's starting to get dark, which will add another fun dimension to my adventure.

Well, no, I didn't drop my keychain into the snow. As I retraced my steps I thought of all the possible places I could have dropped my keys. Even though I thought the idea was crazy, and there was absolutely no possibility of it being true, I opened the trash can lid and shone my cell phone light inside. A glimmer caught my eye. Yup, there are my keys. At the bottom of a trash can. Filled with dog poop. I don't use this phrase regularly, but it has never been more appropriate. FML!!!!

I couldn't reach the bottom of the trash can despite my Go-Go Gadget arms, so I tipped it on it's side and had to put my entire torso inside to reach my keys. And in the process I dabbed my thumb onto a particularly mushy piece of poop.

It was probably 15 degrees out, but I felt nothing as I plunged my hand into a pile of snow. Ew, ew, ew, ew! Get it off! Get it off!!! After my snow hand-rejuvination treatment, I rubbed my fingers all over a small patch of dirt. Crisis averted for now, I grasped the leash in the web space of my left thumb and index finger and used my most effective lobster pincer grasp to hold the stinky keychain at arms length.

We made it home without any further excitement, but my key chain hunt had now delayed me slightly. As soon as I entered the door, I grabbed a stack of alcohol swabs. I'm not talking regular alcohol swabs, I'm talking hospital quality, heavy duty, get rid of SARS alcohol swabs. I briefly pondered bathing myself with them, but I thought that might be a bit extreme. After cleaning my hands, I used a swab to clean the keychain thoroughly. Then I headed to the bathroom to wash my hands about 10 times.

I finally got all my shit together and got changed, but looking at the time I saw I now only had 10 minutes to get to the gym. It's okay, the gym is close by. No big deal. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say the traffic gods were not on my side. I got stuck behind a bus, or 10 busses. Finally, finally I reach my destination and park the car. I sprint inside making Usain Bolt look like a lost, overweight tourist, wandering about at snails pace. Bam, I was in the door. Rushed to the locker room and tossed my belongings inside. Lock broken. Damn. I switched lockers and got the hell out of dodge.

The door to the spinning room was closed... well maybe I can just peek in and see if my bike is still available. I opened the door and was greeted by 36 pairs of glaring eyes.

Whoops. So sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt your techno music induced trance. And my bike is taken. Fair enough, I'm late, I don't expect them to keep it for me. But... how late am I? I look up at the clock. 5:37. No shit. 7 minutes late. Because I couldn't just sign the damn sign-in sheet at 4:23. I also took a poop sauna because of the delay. Not. A. Happy. Camper.

Damn you, Spin Nazi, Damn you!

(I then signed up for the 6:30 class and putzed around the gym for a while until I could go and rightfully claim my bike. Upon which the previous occupant had kindly left a puddle of sweat.)

Okay, time for today's diary entry from Child-T.

June 3, 1993 (I must have taken a hiatus between November and June...)

Jimmy Fitzgerald got my tennis racket out of the tree (Some dumbass thought it would be a great idea to throw my tennis racquet up in a tree. I still don't know who it was, or I'd kick their ass today.) he is so cute (still) oh my gosh I cant believ it tomorrow i'm going to great america (six flags of course) (Of course.) and tomorrow I get out of school! wow the year really went fast (probably because the months of December-May ceased to exist in this parallel universe.) well till next Time stay locked and do'nt let my brother or mom get in here bye. (Can we say run-on?)

Alright, I'll proof read and edit this tomorrow... I am currently getting the stink eye from R since we agreed to go to sleep at 11:00 and it is now 11:42. Sorry, R!!!