This, dear friends, is where I work out. It is what I lovingly refer to as "the dungeon." Our basement, unfinished since we moved into this house, is like the Land of the Misfit Toys. Everything that doesn't have another place in the livable part of our home comes down here to die. This lovely piece of machinery, which I like to call, Señor Treadmill, at one time was doomed to this same, sad fate. I have had this monster since I got married, in 1996, or shortly thereafter. I actually don't remember purchasing it. I know it lived in our apartment for a while. It was there that I was afraid to use it for fear of disturbing the ladies that lived below us. Then we took it to live with my mother-in-law for a year while we saved up for our house. It had some brief use there, when I was working on losing weight before I became pregnant. And then it came to live in our first home, where it resided in the basement because, well, I was pregnant, and I wasn't risking the life of my unborn child by stepping onto that thing. There's that whole, unbalanced, pregnancy hormone thing happening. It was my first pregnancy and I was taking no chances. So there it sat. Waiting for "someday."
Fast forward, three children and 5 years later. Señor Treadmill was still in the dungeon. Our budget didn't allow for a basement rehab, and it wasn't really a place I wanted to spend loads of time. So, I wasn't getting on that thing. If I was gonna work out, it would be at a gym. Yeah, right. With three kids. Uh-huh.
So, we all can imagine how that turned out. Yet another two years had passed, and I was not one pound closer to being where I needed to be. Every morning of every day I woke up with good intentions, but better excuses. In January of 2008, a good friend of mine started Weight Watchers, and was having great results. I was happy for her, and had that nagging little voice of mine that said "you should go with her." But how? I had a two year old crazy monkey-boy attached to me like glue, and would probably not have someone to watch him for two hours every Monday morning. A couple of months passed, and she continued to lose weight, and I continued to sit on my bum. And every now and then I would mention maybe coming with her. Then she said the magic words, "It's a mom and me meeting. You could bring Sam." It would still be tricky, because the meeting was 35 minutes away, and I'd have to zoom out of here after getting kids on the bus, blah, blah, blah. Finally I figured it was worth a try.
I will soon be going on my two year anniversary as a Weight Watcher member. The first 8 months were a breeze. I couldn't believe that the weight kept coming off. After that, things got a little slower. Holidays, vacations, life caused little bumps. I switched my meeting days so that I could actually go without a child in tow, and actually participate in the meeting. I now have the most fabulous meeting leader in the universe. My friend is still there, too, and lots of other wonderful people who I see every week. It's the one thing I don't miss unless absolutely necessary. I could probably count on one hand (maybe one and a half) the amount of meetings I've missed since I've started.
I didn't start out exercising, it was enough for me to have to focus on counting the points. But I did realize at some point that in order to keep things going I'd have to move my booty more. I did the gym thing for a while. I did enjoy it, but it was way over our budget. There was only one thing left I could do.
I entered the dungeon.
I had no choice, really. Because of a minor procedure I had done for my legs, I was now required to walk a minimum of one hour daily. It was really, really cold outside. I had no choice but to suck it up and use the dang thing.
It didn't suck. That was all I could say. My darling husband did all he could to help me stay cheerful about the situation. He installed a cable box and DVR down there so I could record shows and watch them while I walked. Here's my lovely view.
Nice, yes? Note the lovely Christmas decor on the left. I also have a nice, bright window which lets in lots of sun so I can see ALL of the dust down there.
Señor Treadmill and I spend an hour a day together. We've had our ups and downs. Sometimes I hate him. Other times, when I've had a good weigh in, I'm thankful. Because I'm not going out in that snow. And I think of the money we've saved, and the time I've saved from going to the gym. My kids don't need a babysitter. They can come down and see mama do her exercise. It's like a treasure hunt for them down there. I'm setting a good example for them. It's not the prettiest setup, but for now it works. I'm down nearly 70 pounds.
There is always an excuse to NOT do something. Get the excuses out of the way. Get a move on. Go.