John Mayer’s My Body Is A Wasteland

No, this isn’t a cheeky song of the day.  It is an ode to my own physicality.  On a day of relaunching- primarily this here site- I also decided to re-commit to my fitness.  After two weeks in Toronto and a subsequent week in LA riddled with a Canadian plague I had only exercised twice (see below) in many moons.  I was simply having too much fun getting my TIFF and socializing on to deal with the gym.

But up until that point I was rocking thrice weekly spin, getting barked at by an intense trainer weekly and gazing at my at-home free weights on a regular basis.  I’m busting my hump on my crusade for cardiac health and my slow-burning quest for thindom.  My trainer even told me I had shockingly strong lower abs (this was the proudest moment of my entire life; suck it Phys Ed!).  So why, when I take a mere few days off, do I return to spin like a hobbled senior?  It took over half the class to stop feeling like I might puke and die in the corner.  Luckily I got a bike away from the other regulars so they couldn’t witness my low speed state.  Unluckily, as this was one of the last bikes taken, the seat was full of rips.  I’m sure you can imagine why this is not ideal.  Really?

Fine, I didn’t shave my legs for this capri pant wearing occasion.  Is that a crime?  If so, I’m way over the three strikes permitted by California state law.  Furthermore, I believe I was amply punished as what flew into my mouth could only be a non-head originating male hair from the bike’s previous rider.  This certainly did not help my nausea.  Maybe this is an overshare but I needed to talk about the violation in order to purge it from my memories.

You have to take the good with the bad.  At less than full capacity I was not the sweatiest person to leave the class.  First timers club.

And now onto my Toronto exercise.  First: I took a guest pass to a local gym where the bikes are much different (in look, feel, method etc) than the ones at my regular gym.  As such, I have not mastered the resistance levels and can’t be sure if I’m jacking it up too high or not nearly enough.  When the instructor came around mid-class, all his regular gals were rewarded with specific commentary, such as “you need to turn it up a gear” or “you’re right on”.  When he got to me I got a resounding “I love your intensity”.  Is this a participation ribbon of praise for simply showing up?  Or was I the best and therefore the winner of the class?  It’s been almost three weeks and I still clearly care.  I’m not proud.

Second: the LR writers compete on more issues than just “Who can name the most Julia Roberts movies” (ps: I can).  With that in mind, a physical competition was created.  Who could run up and down the stairs seven times at our mom’s building faster?  The rules: two up at a time, every step down, no handrail unless for necessary balance.  There are two sets of stairs so the runs were concurrent.  I’m sure it will be no surprise to those who are used to my general lack of physical skill that I lost.  But I think it will surprise you to learn that I didn’t lose by all that much.  When I return in December, round 2 is go time.  I’m coming for you bro.

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One Response to John Mayer’s My Body Is A Wasteland

  1. Lulu says:

    Don’t be so hard on yourself! Your strength is still there; just takes some time (and patience).

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