My morning routine has changed now! I get up, turn on Mary’s bathroom heater, check the house temperature, adjust the thermostat, open the back door, and return to the bedroom so Oreo can escape! Oreo goes down the hallway like lightning and shoots out the door like a 16-inch shell, leaving a battleship behind. With one little tinkle, she returns to me with a squeaky toy in her mouth. For 15 minutes, I stand out in the cold in a bathrobe, tossing toys onto the wet grass. Oreo didn’t even bother to take off her jammies
Yes, it is Monday. Mary and I arrived at Peak Performance for their bi-weekly workout, armed with water bottles, optimism, and a suspiciously large bag of emergency snacks. The trainers greeted them with smiles usually reserved for people about to enter a haunted house. “Ready to suffer?” Coach Antony asked, holding a clipboard ominously.
They strapped Mary and me into medieval-looking exercise machines that resembled a cross between a catapult and an office chair designed by a wizard with poor boundaries. “These are ergonomic,” Antonmy promised, tightening a strap. I glanced at Mary. “If this is ergonomic, I’m a decorative throw pillow,” he whispered.
The workout began with squats. At rep three, I negotiated with his knees, which had formed a union and demanded better working conditions. Mary pedaled a bike while Antony shouted encouragement. “Imagine you’re chasing a bus!” Mary pedaled faster. “I’m imagining it’s chasing me,” she gasped, “and it has teeth.”
After twenty minutes, the trainers announced a “fun finisher,” involving ropes and lunges beside a machine labeled DO NOT PANIC. I pressed its button anyway. A bell rang, lights flashed, and it dispensed a tiny towel. “It knows my limits,” he said. Antony raised an eyebrow. “It knows your laundry needs.”
They finished sprawled across the mats, victorious but moving like very old furniture. Antony handed us the schedule for next week. I stared at it. “Bi-weekly means twice a week, right?” Mary asked, suddenly alarmed. “Twice a week is correct,” Antony clarified. We sighed with relief as trainers cheerfully reset the machines for the 10:00 a.m. victims!
