I have long said that I dislike exercise. In fact, I could go so far as to say I actually DESPISE it. I have dealt with torturous trainers, having alien babies, and most recently challenged my personal trainer with a fierce declaration that I will be his problem student.
It took days to sign up for my latest gym membership.
Day one: drive by and try not to shudder.
Day two: pull into the parking lot.
Day three: walk in to take a tour.
Day four: drive by again. Breathe deeply.
Day five: Walk through the Gates of Doom and sign the contract.
But I’ve been going, mostly without issue, for almost a month.
Yesterday, however, I finally pinpointed evidence that I am, indeed, allergic to exercise.
It was “cardio day” — my least favorite 30 minutes of the week.
I’ve tried the elliptical. Hate it.
I’ve tried the recumbent bike. Hate it worse.
Yesterday, tried the glider. Managed to do 10 minutes on the glider. Don’t let the name fool you. It’s work, baby. Hard work.
So, after the 10 minutes, I decided I’d worked hard enough for one day, and headed for the treadmill.
And that’s when the trouble began.
I’d been on the treadmill for all of two minutes when I started to cough. There was a tickle in the back of my throat that simply wouldn’t stop.
I took a drink. It got worse. I was now sputtering all over the shared equipment.
I stopped the treadmill and tried to breathe.
I was coughing so hard, I thought I might throw up. Didn’t want to do that on the beautiful new carpet in the gym. Or in front of other people. So, naturally, I did what any normal human would do.
I stumbled out the front door and lurched to my car. Because, you know, retching and dying in the parking lot is far less embarrassing than doing so on the gym floor, right?
The coughing and retching wouldn’t stop.
After several minutes, I decided that the smart thing to do was to drive home. Because, you know, driving home before retching and dying is also less embarrassing than doing so in the parking lot.
I waited until I could breathe, shallowly without coughing. But I was shaking and scared.
I needed him to talk to me all the way home.
He did. He babbled on about movies, sports, music. He shared nuggets about friends, field trips and fancy foods.
That kid’s voice was my tether to home. I clung to it.
As I pulled in the driveway, he was there waiting for me with a fresh glass of water and a hug.
In truth, I didn’t discover evidence of an exercise allergy, but I did find undeniable proof that Thing Two is the sweetest human on the planet.*Photo Credit: cwcav Photo editing: RCM