BC, Before Children, I had a great workout buddy. Her name was Mary Lynn aka Wild Blond. She and I would walk daily in the spring, summer and fall, and workout indoors during the winter. She was one who would be sitting in my driveway waiting for me so I couldn’t use any excuses not to go. She would talk non-stop and sometimes we would even end the workout at the local pub for a beer, a light one of course. She was the best workout buddy, and I was in the best shape of my life since graduating from high school.
When I met The Captain, he and I would workout together. He liked going to the gym and on the treadmill. When I would get him to walk outside with me, he insisted on bringing my hulking golden retriever, who enjoyed sitting periodically on the journey. This did not make for a real walk, more of a start/stop, pull the dog sort of expedition. Not quite the motivation of having Wild Blond honking in my driveway.
BC it was easy to find time to workout. AC, After Children, not so much!
BC it was fun to go to new classes. AC I am too tired.
BC I was vain and searching for a husband to have children with. AC, well, yeah.
Sadly, I have not had a workout buddy since my youngest, Squishy, was born. That was seven years ago. I think I am in desperate need to get a workout buddy, but I don’t know where to find one because most of my friends have kids, activities and busy lives, too.
I have a friend who teaches workout classes. She is a workout guru. Recently, as in two summers ago, I attempted to have her as my workout buddy. It didn’t go so well. Instead of Wild Blond honking in the driveway, my workout goals were reduced to guilt. I was afraid of not doing what I was supposed to do. It was as if all of the family obligations were overtaking me, and I felt bad about not being able to make a good effort at the gym. So, I ended the workout buddy relationship, and we are better friends today without it.
The Captain and I were chatting in the kitchen and I was explaining my workout buddy woes. I asked him to teach me how to run. I have this fantasy of doing the Princess Half Marathon at Disney, mainly because I want a bag of goodies, cute t-shirt, character autographs and a crown. Disney, ah.
“I want to learn how to run. You are a runner, can you teach me?”
“There is no way to teach someone to run,” The Captain replied, already appearing as if this conversation was one he wished to avoid.
“You run. Who taught you to run?” I wasn’t letting this go. No way.
“I am not sure why we are even talking about this. You have had a gym membership for three years and you have only gone three times. Maybe you should just go to the gym,” he said, and then picked something invisible off of the floor.
My eyes glazed over, red as the gates of Hell. My lips quivered, like the impact of a tornado. My body shook, with the strength of a nuclear bomb. The wrath was coming.
“Wow. Really? When am I going to pencil that in between working, your rehearsals, running kids, helping with their homework, grading papers?”
“You forgot about sitting at your computer for hours,” he mumbled as he went to take out the garbage. Exit The Captain. Obviously this was the end of the discussion.
Grrr. So, I am now reevaluating. To The Captain’s sheer excitement, I dragged him to the running store and, with his superior running guidance, bought new running shoes. Now, I just need to find some poor sap who wants to be my workout buddy and make it happen. Maybe I will increase my gym attendance to double digits. Maybe…
Anyone want to be my oh-so important workout buddy? Honking in the driveway is a must.