A number of years ago I joined my first gym. For the first year I spent a good amount of time on the elliptical machine. Walking in place, uphill, downhill. Very fulfilling. Got some killer calves from that year, rock hard. After a while I got a little bored and decided to try out the weight room floor. All those shiny machines were calling to me. After a personal trainer showed me the ropes I dove in, hit those machines, usually on Fridays. This lead to some nice arms and a few too many offers of friendship from the muscle-bound men.
Look at all that color! Delicious! |
The final hurdle I jumped was going to the group fitness classes. I decided that I liked this the best. Not only would I have awesome arms and calves, but I would be able to work my whole body! Pilates, body sculpting, yoga it was all so much fun! But what really caught my eye? One night I spied a kickboxing class while pedaling away on my elliptical. Punching and kicking, all the members in unison like one of those Bally’s commercials. I could do that, right? You bet! Although it took an introductory class and a pair of new shoes to get me into the rhythm with the rest of them. But now I can round house kick like Chuck Norris. Totally worth it!
The scary thing for this week? I stopped at that imposing looking Asian market on my walk home from work. Walking inside and being greeted with strange candies and bad lighting. I walked up and down the aisles, looking over the bottles and jars with words written in Chinese, Korean and Japanese. I decided to bring home some of these sauces, even though I wasn’t quite sure what they all were. Dinner would be spicy tonight, because the bottle we’re using tonight says chili!