In 2008, I lost about sixty pounds. I kept that weight off for about three years, and then the weight started creeping back on after I stopped exercising and went back to work. What can I say - I can only focus on one thing at a time.
This year my husband and I are trying to lose weight together. Our oldest daughter is with us in this quest also. Friday we had yet another snow day, so we were all home. The girls started getting too aggressive with each other, so I sent the oldest to get on the treadmill to work it off.
She did level two, which is an improvement from the level one that she usually saunters through. While she was walking, she kept telling me how much she hated me. Of course then I started giving her a hard time for saying that, when she was only on level two.
Saturday morning I couldn't talk myself out of getting on the treadmill, which is what I normally do. The girls had to be somewhere early so I was up, with time to kill before getting ready for my son’s basketball game.
I got on the treadmill and started on level three. When it started, I thought to myself, “This isn't so bad, I have no idea what her problem was with level two.”
Below are the things that passed through my mind as I continued.
1. Wow, this is a little harder than I remember.
2. Speed four is really fast.
3. Incline ten? Really? I don’t want to climb Mount Rushmore; I just want to burn some calories.
4. I haven’t gone a mile yet? This thing might be broken; I know I've gone three.
5. Wow… my head is starting to hurt.
6. If I trip and fall off of this, can my ten-year-old get me up?
7. My spine may be out of line.
Climbing a mountain again? Don’t they give you ropes when you climb mountains? I think my head may explode. I think I have a brain tumor. It could be a blood clot. It can’t be in my legs, because they are now rubber, so it must be in my head.
When my husband got up, he asked me how I was doing. I told him I was pretty sure I was going to die. He asked me what level I was on. I told him three. He shook his head, chuckled, and walked away. He didn't know about the blood clot in my head.
When I got off the treadmill, the room started spinning. I felt like I was walking through a clown house on my way to the other room.
So the moral of the story is this: Don’t laugh at those who do the work you should be doing – or karma will give you a headache. I think that’s going to be a popular phrase soon.