Anything Lime

…And then I spontaneously combusted. Well… almost.

The clock woke me out of a peaceful sleep at 6:35 on this Thursday morning, which is the one day of the week that I head to the gym before work. I slinked down the side of my bed and onto Kya’s, where I snuggled with her for another 15 minutes before realizing that if I didn’t absolutely get my butt in gear, I would miss out on yet another morning gym session (like the last few …hundred).

I got ready pretty quickly because I’d packed my work clothes the night before. I got dressed, packed my lunch and gathered up my things before taking Kya for her quiet morning walk. It had been about 20 minutes since we had left the apartment, which made me feel even more pressure about getting to the gym, working out and then ultimately getting to work on time. “COME ON, KYA!! GO POOP!”

So finally I bring her to a new patch of grass, which, of course, is greener than her normal side of the park. She immediately takes the stance and delivers. While I was cleaning it up, she flings her body around as though she’s gone into convulsions and starts violently scratching her ear. I rolled my eyes, because, geez, it’s just an itch. What a baby.

She stands up to reveal a little surprise on the sidewalk in the exact spot where she was sitting. A medium-sized piece of dog poo.

I gave her a good examination to discover that while she had not stepped in the poo, she had in fact placed the back of her leg in it, flattening it on the sidewalk. Why is it that MY dog gets covered in poo? How unfair is that? I ALWAYS CLEAN UP THE POO!

With my MacGyver-like wit and ingenuity, I fashioned Kya a boot using one of her spare poop bags, and we trotted directly to the shower where I washed the shiz off her leg. Tick tock.

The 30-minute drive to the gym could be described as anything but a joyride. At one point my car was stuck in the middle of an intersection where cars are driving in every direction toward the interstate. I was facing one peculiar-looking woman who stared at me for a couple of moments, manually rolled down her window and then said, “Nice! In the middle here! Good going! GWASHHHAAAACK!!” And then she and her delightfully cartoonish mullet drove away.

I worked my ass off at the gym. I ran harder and faster than I have in a long time. I ran a pretty quick mile, and in the middle of it I stopped because I had lost feeling in my arms and hands. I bent down a little because I thought I was going to pass out, and I felt vomit stirring in my stomach. I guzzled some water, got back on the treadmill and increased the speed. Oh, and my new nickname for myself? Starts with H and rhymes with HARDASS!

I couldn’t have been more relieved to be done running. I was feeling awful, still feeling the terrible stomach ache that I assumed was brought on by yesterday’s Starbucks splurge. More than 24 hours later I’m praying to the baby Jesus that it’s not the flu, or something as equally unpleasant.

Hopping into the cold shower felt good on my sweaty face that had transformed to a tomato-ey red color sometime during my exercise. I had a pretty good shower, which was making me feel better about the irritating morning I’d had until I turned off the water and had no choice but to throw a hissy fit. The kind I threw when I was four. And five. and nine. And 18.

Forgot to bring a towel. Apparently after forgetting underwear one time, towel slips down a few spots in the list of important things to bring to the gym.

I did the best to sqeegee off using only my hands. I rung out my hair and did a few shake moves to help get the water off. Next time you’re taking a shower, do this and see how well it works. Still soaking wet, I had a few options. I could grab the fabric curtain, which separated my little shower room from the rest of the locker room. While it wasn’t at all absorbent, I could wear it as a cloak and skip over to the Xelerator hand dryer, which has the power to dry and entire human body in eight seconds. I opted for the less risky move that wouldn’t have resulted in the immediate termination of my gym membership – I toweled off with my gym pants. I know, I’m sickened too.

Though, it did make me wonder why I own so few pairs of terry cloth pants… just a thought.


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  1. * Allison says:

    It’s good to know I’m not the only one who commands my have bowel movements…though I have been known to insert a not so friendly subsitute for her name if I am in a partcular hurry or if the weather is inclement. You would think that the move from an apartment to a house would have eliminated this issue, but my dog’s great aversion to the outdoors and not so big aversion to treating the carpet like her personal potty still render these conversations necessary.

    I feel for you about the gym. I forgot to pack my bra one morning and putting my sweaty sports bra back on was absolutely not an option. I did some odd arms-crossed-over-my-chest maneuver to make a beeline out of the gym. I’m sure that didn’t draw anybody’s attention.

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 1 month ago
  2. * Patrick says:

    I never use a towel at the gym shower. Ever since I saw “Jerry Maguire” I prefer to air dry, just like Rod Tidwell.

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 1 month ago

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