So today, at 34 years of age, I finally wrangled myself and my wife into a gym where I got onto a treadmill, for the first time in my life. For the first time I was running with no particular destination in mind, other than the fact that I was trying to get some form of exercise back into my life. I've been paying for the gym membership at my work for about a month and finally I dragged myself in there and get pretty close to convincing myself back out. But Elaine was with me and we both needed to just get into the gym and get back into some kind of healthy form. Even since I got myself a desk job, I've been doing even less exercise (although my previous job was more manual labor, not really exercise per se.)
It was a pretty good stride, occasionally breaking into some wimpy form of jogging whereby my arms flail about like some chicken with wing atrophy. I'm still not a big fan of the locker room, further reinforced today when a naked man out of the shower made some eye contact with me and smiled. It's not like I'm some complete homophobe, because it literally could some hot girl coming out of the shower naked, I would still feel completely uncomfortable. I guess nudity weirds me out to a certain extent. Or maybe I'm just a big fan of modesty.
Anyhow, other than extending my work hours a bit more, I think I'll enjoying this working out thing. Especially after Zoe looked at my tummy and said, "You must be really full." I hadn't eaten anything for hours. Sad, sad, middle aged tales.