I’m trying to get myself into a new routine in regards to exercise. Slowly I want to work my tush back into jogging, but it will take some time especially since I’m having so many issues with my legs.
Since I’m one of those annoying, irritating Type-A personalities, I’ve made up a calendar for January (and February, and March) indicating scheduled workout days.
I was sick in the beginning of the month and then took a trip to see Dad, so it really shouldn’t be terribly difficult to make the second half of January look far more exercise-ier than the first half. Yes, I realize that’s not a word. I don’t care. I’m tired.
It isn’t much, but it’s a good start and that’s just where I am right now.
I did a 30 minute walk on the treadmill last night while watching a tv show on my laptop. The sound of the treadmill drowned out most of the sound from the laptop, so I’m glad I picked a cheesy show to watch. Didn’t have to be focused on it too much. I jumped on the treadmill without realizing I wasn’t wearing runners and that grew old pretty quickly, so I stopped once to throw on a pair. Then, at around minute 25 the treadmill started to make strange noises. Clattering sounds. Like something had fallen apart. I kept going, obviously. Who am I if not the Safety Bear?
And then. At minute 28. I smelled something. Something like burning rubber. I knew something was being rubbed by something else and that it probably wasn’t a good idea to keep going. Must. Give. Treadmill. A. Break. Sometimes. Too.
But I only had two minutes left. And the smell wasn’t that bad. And nothing was actually smoking, for goodness’ sake.
Do you wonder how I get through each day? Because I do.