abs schmabs

So given that I've gained 15 pounds since my wrist injury, and given that I'm bored as shit with the elliptical trainers I've been using for the past eight years, I plunked down some money for a class pass at the UT gym a few weeks ago. The first week gave me quadriceps so sore I couldn't walk for days. The second week gave me calves so sore I couldn't walk for days. I'm not even kidding; I was gimping around like a gimp. My conclusion based on all evidence is that my body has gotten so efficient at the elliptical trainers it's not really a workout anymore, no matter what I set the damn machine to. I mean, I've been doing the elliptical about three times a week, so I didn't think I was that totally out of shape. But now that I have a masochistic teacher exhorting me to  quote unquote "push it! Push it hard!" and leading me through motions that more or less shock my body out of all complacency, I'm forced to conclude that I simply haven't been exercising on those machines, probably for a while now. This is a good thing to realize. I am at the highest pants size I want to be at.

As a side note, let me say that when I overhear someone say "I love abs work," I want to punch them in the nose. I realize this is unfair. I have been known to utter the phrase "Hey guys, let's strap sixty pounds to our backs and go out into the woods where we'll have to dig our own ditches to poop in and eat half-cooked ramen for dinner." I can't imagine various friends and acquaintances haven't wanted to punch me in the nose for such statements. But man, when I lay on my back, the first thing I think is, "Ah, my old friend corpse pose. Maybe I can snag a nap while I'm supposed to be meditating." Not: "Ah, I'm on my back. Time to force my torso upright against all dictates of gravity."