Yesterday I had to take my shorts off because they were so uncomfortable. Instead of investing in some elastic-waisted pants, I decided there was just no more putting off getting back in shape.
So today I dusted the dirt and cobwebs off the bar bells, I swept the dust off the treadmill, then I called it a day.
I walked for 52 minutes on the treadmill. I did a warm-up and a cool-down lap at a slow pace and a zero incline, then bumped up the incline and walked at a good pace, but not one that would have me heaving. I walked 2.75 miles and burned 240 Calories. (Christ--it's not even a full candy bar's worth of Calories! Ah, well. It's 240 more than I did yesterday.) Elton John's Captain Fantastic kept me going. "Better off dead," right?
The music over, I switched to the bar bells and weight bench. I only worked uppers. Tomorrow can be core and legs. I think I'll be sore enough.
A bit of a stretch and done.
Why do I dread this so much? It's just not that hard. Actually, it feels good, physically and otherwise.