Gonna Make You Sweat

Since having my son and even before, staying in shape has been pretty important to me. I have to say that after a baby, the weight comes off, but it definitely takes A LOT of time and effort. I didn't put too much on during my pregnancy. I gained 30 lbs respectively. Much of that comes off after you actually give birth and then you're left with the most stubborn 10-15 lbs that you've ever encountered. It's more about the inches than the pounds though, in case you're one of those people who is scale obsessed. The scale always takes time to catch up with the work that you're body is doing. The gym has not only served as a place to get and stay in shape but it is also a place for me to actually be "Me" for an hour without having to worry about my son tugging at my pants to be picked up or having a separation anxiety attack based on the fact that I have to use the bathroom and I dared to walk away to use it. As I ran downstairs today, my husband stood holding the baby. I knew that it was going to be a mission to make my way out of the house without my son having one of his separation anxiety attacks. I needed to make a swift and clean break. I grabbed my headphones, cell phone, I touch and keys and ran out the door. I didn't escape without hearing the cries of my baby, which always makes me feel guilty for leaving. "You need to get out....... you need the release......you need to fill your body with those endorphins!". Positive self talk. I do it all the time. It helps me make sure I remember who I am. Oh lord, soon I'll have to put sticky notes all over myself like in the movie Memento to remind myself to eat and sleep too. I make my way past the noise of treadmills, steppers, grunting and some flying sweat and find myself at the last treadmill with the sun beating through the window. "Should have worn my bathing suit, could have gotten a nice tan.". I'm thinking of the part in Wayne's world when they're walking through the desert dying of heat and dehydration. I like my gym. It always smells as if it has been completely sanitized. This isn't the case today though. On the right of me is a man that is dressed in a hooded sweatshirt, sweatpants and a sweatband across his head. We are having a very mild winter might I add. This guy looks like he is dressed for the storm of the century here. Did I mention the heat of the sun beating through the window. I step on the treadmill and I want to throw up. Holy B.O. ! The smell of this guy's sweat is ridiculous. I mean seriously, I saw a special on people like him who wear hot and heavy clothing to try to burn extra pounds at the gym. He was definitely burning pounds and I was suffering the consequences. The worst part is that his sweat is flying everywhere. It is attacking me from every angle like an out of control sprinkler. How is no one looking as disgusted as I am right now, how is......oh shoot he's looking at the look on my face, I flash a smile that says " Hi, do you understand how your stench is killing me right now and that I am completely grossed out by your sweat sprinkler? No you probably don't. Have an awesome workout!". Sometime during my run, somewhere in between me rewording songs on my i touch to try to make light of this situation...... " You're sweating and I know it, yeah look at that sweat fly....yeah look at that sweat fly...you work out !.....a woman begins talking to my sweat soaked neighbor. Apparently he went to high school with her daughter. From listening to him talk, he sounded like one of those "know it all" types of people. The question is though.....does he know about his sweat and how it is affecting me right now? Is it affecting this woman that is talking to him right now? She seems like she knows him well, I'm waiting for her to pass out mid sentence, I can kind of see her face crunching up during the conversation as well. People clear out that section of the gym pretty quickly. Remember, mine was the only treadmill available. I guess  I can safely say I know why now. I continue my run, interval by interval, faster and slower, uphill, downhill. My imagination is going as it so often does. Chariots of fire playing as I run around a track as fast as I can, only when I get to the next runner in the relay receiving the baton, it is Mr. Sweaty sweatshirt man and I pass him a bar of deodorant. He smiles and says "thanks, I'm sweating bullets" and I smile and say, "I know, I can smell it!".