Last night I hit the recently-renovated and newly renamed fitness room (sorry... "
X-CENTRE!"!) in our apartment building.
It has to be the most depressing room in the entire universe.
The walls are painted a hideous orange-yellow shade, but about two coats short of full coverage. The three cardio machines- a bike, a treadmill and an eliptical- are brand new, but not of the highest quality. And the 'universal gym' system thing resembles an ancient torture device.
But I go. Because I'm cheap, and renewing my YMCA membership just isn't in the cards right now.
I get home at 5:10, so if I don't stop when I walk through the door, I can usually get down to the X-CENTRE! by 5:20. Last night I was lucky and had the room to myself. I did a 35 minute interval workout on the bike, which almost made me die by minute 21.
Then I stretched, hauled my sweaty butt through the East tower, across the pool, and back upstairs in the West tower to our apartment, where I did an equally intense 30 minute free-weights-and-cardio DVD.
I am truly shocked that I can even walk today. And equally proud of myself.