And the countdown begins! Yes friends, (family, and lover(s)), One month from today I will be heading out to Peru. It's really real, considering I purchased the tickets and am making a long awaited trip to REI! Travel blog will continue!
The main purpose of this exciting excursion is to scale a little ruin by the name of Machu Picchu. There may be some beach-front camping, pisco sour drinking, and perhaps even some uncomfortable bus traveling (just a guess), but I'm ready. I got the courage yet again to return to the devil gym and prepare myself. No, the Stair Master and I did not reunite, however, I fondly remembered the treadmill, and will again visit the old spinning classes.
Hopefully, tales of greedy gypsies, living food, and bubbling blisters will make it to the blog. Life just doesn't seem to be too exciting minus said staples; plus, everyone seemed to like the fact that I got urinated on and stepped in the Machu Picchu of dog shiza whilst in Argentina.
see ya soon!
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Climbing Machu Picchu on a Stair Master
In the past month, I have begun to prepare for my upcoming trip to Peru. (I guess I better go now, since I've made it public). By prepare, I do mean look at plane ticket prices, backpacks at REI online, and dog ear pages in my borrowed Lonely Planet. Sometime last week, I realized that prepping myself to climb a massive mountain means more than just finding cute, affordable, and practical hiking shoes, but physically and mentally gearing up for such an event.
I'm not a morbidly obese person. As a matter of fact, I'm not even fat. (Some say I look good, really good). But since arriving home from Argentina in June, I have made it my businesses and personal goal to be l-a-z-y and not exercise. Walking to the mailbox is strenuous enough for me. This morning, I got up and after about an hour of listening to the coverage of Kanye West's shit fest on Taylor Swift, my mind was made to visit an old friend- the gym.
So I put on my rusty workout sneeks, a sports bra, and enough deodorant to make it through a strenuous session of self inflicted ass kicking and headed out. Upon arriving, I couldn't figure out what to do first. Spinning class? Treadmill? The options were endless. Thinking that climbing a mountain takes leg strength, I hopped on the upgraded StairMaster. 15 minutes on that butt blaster and on to free weights, followed by a core pumping routine I have perfected over the years and I'll be golden...........or so I thought.
I lasted 7 minutes on the DevilMaster (formally known as the Stair Master) and just about fell off. Fuck you exercise masochist machine. I gappishly walked over to the water fountains and was almost unable to consume what felt like the breath of life (water) because I was so literally out of breath that I kept exhaling out all of the water...all over the mouth piece in the fountain.(Gross, Courtney). Being as cool as possible in this awkward situation, I moved on to the mats, taking the long route to snatch a 10 lb free weight. Please know that after picking up the weight and placing it next to me, I never touched it again...not even to bring it back to its respective place on the free weight rack. As a matter of fucking fact, I laid on the mat and did absolutely NOTHING for my remaining time! I attempted a sit up or two. I rolled from my back to my stomach, and then back over, again. Then, I proudly pealed my ass and thighs up off the red, white, and blue, (oh, how patriotic to be slim) mats and fled to the locker room. I stole my items from the rented locker and just about allowed the door to hit my negative ass on the way out. (I'm just about positive I muttered Fuck you, Gym on the way out.)
Thought you might enjoy that!
I'm not a morbidly obese person. As a matter of fact, I'm not even fat. (Some say I look good, really good). But since arriving home from Argentina in June, I have made it my businesses and personal goal to be l-a-z-y and not exercise. Walking to the mailbox is strenuous enough for me. This morning, I got up and after about an hour of listening to the coverage of Kanye West's shit fest on Taylor Swift, my mind was made to visit an old friend- the gym.
So I put on my rusty workout sneeks, a sports bra, and enough deodorant to make it through a strenuous session of self inflicted ass kicking and headed out. Upon arriving, I couldn't figure out what to do first. Spinning class? Treadmill? The options were endless. Thinking that climbing a mountain takes leg strength, I hopped on the upgraded StairMaster. 15 minutes on that butt blaster and on to free weights, followed by a core pumping routine I have perfected over the years and I'll be golden...........or so I thought.
I lasted 7 minutes on the DevilMaster (formally known as the Stair Master) and just about fell off. Fuck you exercise masochist machine. I gappishly walked over to the water fountains and was almost unable to consume what felt like the breath of life (water) because I was so literally out of breath that I kept exhaling out all of the water...all over the mouth piece in the fountain.(Gross, Courtney). Being as cool as possible in this awkward situation, I moved on to the mats, taking the long route to snatch a 10 lb free weight. Please know that after picking up the weight and placing it next to me, I never touched it again...not even to bring it back to its respective place on the free weight rack. As a matter of fucking fact, I laid on the mat and did absolutely NOTHING for my remaining time! I attempted a sit up or two. I rolled from my back to my stomach, and then back over, again. Then, I proudly pealed my ass and thighs up off the red, white, and blue, (oh, how patriotic to be slim) mats and fled to the locker room. I stole my items from the rented locker and just about allowed the door to hit my negative ass on the way out. (I'm just about positive I muttered Fuck you, Gym on the way out.)
Thought you might enjoy that!
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