I am such a gym loser novice that I can’t even tell the difference between the machines.
I like the elliptical machine. But apparently, I don’t like all machines that LOOK like elliptical machines, nor do they like me.
When I first started, I had a preferred elliptical machine. Back corner, farthest from the door. No one behind me. This was important to my psyche during my first couple trips. I needed to have full sight to the entire gym floor. Not sure why. In case the cool kids showed up and I needed to bail? In case my husband walked in and I could pretend we didn’t know each other so as not to embarrass him at work with my purple gym face? So I could mop off / catch my breath if any of the parents from Grace’s class saw me and came over to chat? (Luckily, I don’t wear my glasses to the gym, so most people don’t recognize me – lol!) … Who knows. I just know the back was for me.
Kenny dubbed my preferred machine ‘the first elliptical machine ever made’. He was right. It was kind of manual and kind of oldish. (I don’t know how I knew this because I am in no way an elliptical machine connoisseur. I think the fact that it was in the back corner and it looked dramatically different from all the other elliptical machines was the tip off.) However, his verbalization of the machine’s age put a curse on it. The very next time I went to use it, it made a loud metal-y cranking sound with every cycle of my legs. Grrrrreat. Of course, this drew looks from other gym goers. Which in turn, caused me to panic and frantically scream “abort! abort! abort mission!” to myself in my head. So I quickly formulated my exit strategy and executed.
I casually cranked out a few more cycles, hopped off the creaky loud machine and did some light leg stretches. I then walked down the row and casually hopped on the next “elliptical machine”. This was my very lame attempt to make it seem like this was my plan. Like I was the workout gal who used a few different machines during her gym visits. Listen, I am trying to fit into this scene which is about as foreign to me as visiting Europe! I know – I am weird. I can’t explain why my brain thinks like this – it just does. Hahaha.
Here’s the rub. The second machine I hopped on was NOT an elliptical machine. It was an AMT machine. Big difference.
I didn’t realize it wasn’t an elliptical machine until I started trying to elliptical on it. I could do it – but it was sort of like an elliptical machine + stair climber in one. And it was insanely hard. And hurt my knees. (I know. Whiner. Pass the tissues.)
Ten cycles in and I was slowly realizing that I signed myself up for some ridiculous, never-before-done workout. A quick look around the machine confirmed it. I was on an AMT machine. Not an elliptical machine. Ugh. Because I literally just switched machines, I didn’t want to change AGAIN. That would be way too embarrassing. So, I stuck with it, and, for a while, I kind of elliptical-ed. Except it felt more like trying to push a boulder up a hill (arms) and thrust one down a hill (legs). Then, due my sheer clumsiness and nothing more, I ended up doing this gazelle-like move. Hmmm. That felt much easier than what I was doing for the last five minutes. So I kept going this way. Gazelle leap, gazelle leap, gazelle leap. Except I am not petite or graceful like a gazelle. The visual probably equated more to an elephant or gorilla farcing a gazelle. This machine literally extended me into a near split and stretched my arms out as far as they’d reach. (Ok, maybe it’s not a near-split. But for my 37-year-old, workout-hater-until-six-weeks-or-so-ago self, it was an actual split. In fact, it was so much like a split, I am trying out for the local gymnastics team next week.) I survived. But my knees were killing me the next day. Hahaha. Don’t worry. I recovered injury-free!
When I got home, I googled AMT. Turns out it is an Adaptive Motion Trainer and you can customize all these settings to personalize your workout experience. The marketing material boasts its Open Stride technology. (That must be the splits part – haha). Great – I had no idea any of the moves I was doing could be customized for me / my height, etc. This is why that matters: I was working out on the campus of a very large sporting goods company. So, you can be quite sure that the machine was set for some sort of super athlete. Who has a stride that is 10x mine, hence the splits. Hahahaha!
I have yet to try that machine again, but now that I know more about it, it might be a good option when I am more in shape. 🙂
Before we moved to Portland, I remember an influx of Canadian Geese to the Philadelphia area being a big thing that created popular fodder for local news (i.e. headlines like – Canadian Geese Poop Ruins Kids’ Soccer Tournament or Border Collies in High Demand to Chase Geese Off Runways were all the rage). Ok, so both of those headlines are made up, but you get the gist. (Hey, I got to use my good, old-fashioned Journalism degree with that little exercise, so thanks for indulging me.)
Anyway, Portland has geese, but it seems not to the extent of the Philadelphia area, where they really were seemingly EVERYWHERE…including in our small backyard, the field behind our house, the sports fields, parking lots…really anywhere that had grass…or not. Shockingly, Canadian Geese were one of the few animals that didn’t seem to want to set up shop in our attic in our 120+-year old house in Jenkintown. I see them in Portland, but I guess there are enough natural settings that I don’t cross them as much in my everyday life as I did back home? Who knows.
In any case, I encountered this little gem as I drove to the gym recently.
See that yellow sign? It says: Caution! Aggressive geese nesting.
Amazing.
See the mom up there on the walk way roof near the tree?
She’s sitting on her nest.
The orange cones?
They are blocking the walk way so you don’t provoke Goose Dad who hangs out on the sidewalk below Goose Mom while she warms the eggs.
The whole set up is fantastic. I love that the facilities folks have STAKED SIGNS and placed orange cones at either end of the walk way to warn employees about the aggressive geese.
It seems most folks travel around the path / heed the warnings (in my very limited observational research, which entails a five-second drive by on the way into and the way out of the gym parking lot.)
However, last week, I did see a poor fella tempt fate and traverse between the cones.
In his defense, the coast looked clear. Goose Mom was sleeping. Goose Dad was no where to be seen. Until the poor fella ventured too close to Goose Mom. He walked UNDER her. Well, Goose Dad was not a fan of that move, screamed and came running from behind the tree with his wings spread. You know the move – the one where they look huge and menacing and you can see their tongues or whatever they have in their mouths. Poor fella, screamed a little (yay for nice days so I had my windows down and could get the sound effects), jumped back, and said, “Whoa, buddy.” He walked backwards between the two orange cones and took the grass instead. This seemed to appease Goose Dad, who’s featured in the picture below.
Moral of this story? Geese can be aggressive. So if you see a sign telling you so, take heed.
Gavin and I just ran to the store to drop a package at the Post Office and pick up a few things for dinner. On the way in, he said, “Wait! We’re going to Bales?” I said, “Yes, we’re going to Bales.” He did a little jump / fist pump action and said, “YES! Maybe you’ll get my sack.”
Huh.
Sack.
No idea what he was talking about.
Me: “Your sack?”
Gavin: “Yes, my sack.”
Me: “What’s that?”
Gavin: “My SACK. I decorated it at school.”
Now, because I am pretty much still 12, and have two brothers that use the term “sack” to describe man parts, and am still not getting what he’s talking about, I am smirking. I told him I wasn’t sure what he meant. He said, “It’s brown or tan and like a bag you use to carry things.” Oh. Got it now. I have never, ever in my life called a grocery bag a sack, so I am chalking this one up to the local colloquialism schism that I fully expect to develop between my Portland-raised children and Philadelphia-raised Kenny and I. (On a separate note, my mother is probably appalled reading this because, as a nurse, she tried her very best to raise us to always use proper terminology to describe parts of the human anatomy. “Sack” definitely falls short on that one.)
As we shopped, he told me that they decorated sacks last week for Bales to “help people know about Earth Day. Which is today, Mom, in case you didn’t know.” I assured him that I knew it was Earth Day and that he could show me the sacks when we were checking out. I fully expected that I would not be able to find the one he decorated.
We started checking out and he was on his tip-toes looking for the decorated sacks. He spotted them and pointed them out. I told him they looked great. I also said we probably wouldn’t get his, because there are like 12 check out counters and each had a sizeable stack of sacks. (Yes, now he’s got me saying sacks. Dear heavens.)
My favorite part of all this is that when I asked him how school was last Thursday, he said the standard, “Good.” Did you do anything exciting? “No.” But, as soon as he heard we were going to Bales, it all came back to him and the sharing floodgates opened. Apparently, I need to do a better job of engaging him on a day-to-day basis – hahaha!
I happened to glance at the next register over.
Guess what I saw.
“GAVIN” in sloppy-ish, neat-ish Kindergarten scrawl, peeking out from under the first few bags.
Yes. It was his.
How’s that for dumb luck?
He was thrilled that I got his sack.
Happy Earth Day, everyone! 🙂
(P.S. If you like popcorn, seek out Pop Corners – they are AMAZING. You can see our popping out the top of the bag. Popping – see what I did there? Oy.)
