Shopping with the teenagers yesterday left me with tired, sore feet. Even worse, it left me with a tired, sore ego. There were far too many dressing room mirrors to avoid acknowledging that I am beyond "a bit" out of shape.
So this evening, I joined my daughter at the gym.
That was my first mistake.
My second mistake was trying to keep up with her.
I actually did pretty well on the treadmill the first 10 minutes. By 15 minutes, I was promising myself a visit to the hot tub if I could live to 20 minutes. By 20 minutes, I was beginning to mentally compose my will -- leaving absolutely nothing to the sadistic child who tricked me into the gym of course. (Poor child, she was totally unaware of my discomfort and continued to merrily bop along on the exercise bike to her ipod tunes.) By 25 minutes, I was moving along by pure willpower, determined to keep going as long as my daughter did. (Plus, I wasn't sure how to turn off the treadmill without help.) The last 15 minutes are gone from my memory. I just know that by the time my daughter took pity on me, I had walked 40 minutes.
This was probably just one small step for most people. But it was one giant leap forward for me.