The first front

Today I began the serious battle of the buldge and went to the gym near work. I really didn't want to go, it was cold and I was tired and had all the excuses stacked up and neatly organized in my pocket. I went to the gym, internally whining and moaning and complaining. I felt like the fat kid - surrounded by these young, twenty-something hot bodies that hadn't been partying and eating their way through their mid-twenties. I was lamenting the fact that at one point I was trim and in good cardio condition and now found myself huffing and puffing on the stationary bike. I only made it through five minutes on that torturous climber / escalator thingie.

There was an older woman wearing a tan cap covering an apparently bald head; a cancer patient I assumed. She wore, from what I could tell, was a five dollar pair of worn black canvas Kmart shoes, modest knit pants and long-sleeved top with a paisely pattern. And, amist the Nike and Under Armor clad youth around her, she was kicking a*s all over the gym. When I was on my tour of the building she was lifting weights. She made her way to the stretching mat, I assumed to cool down, when she grabbed the oversized exercise ball, using the handrail to lower herself to the floor, and began doing some serious ab exercises. As I was getting ready to call it quits I found her again, this time doing more cardio on a seated bike. This incredible woman was waging a battle of her own greater than my lamentations over gaining weight and facing the upcoming wedding. I want to say that it motivated me to do another rep, another round on the treadmill, but instead I just wanted to go home and write about this cool thing that I saw, eat dinner and a to take a hot bath. Maybe tomorrow...