Disclaimer: This entry is disgusting. For those of you do not want to hear about the tainted lungs and natural, um, issues of a sickly person, please don't read any further. Watch the linked youtube video below or something. I'll be sure to have a less unpleasant post later on about, like, panic in buying people Christmas gifts (I've bought 1! And I don't even know if it's really going to be for him!). You have been warned.
Okay, so y'all know that when I got back from NY, my body basically had had enough of this crap and completely broke down on me. I spent most of the weekend in bed, a sadsack unable to buy groceries, being tended to by the cats. And by tended to, I mean forced to play with the needy ones.
So, I finally began feeling better around Monday, aside from a death cough, which pleased the coworkers around me I'm sure. But now, even that's mostly gone away and I'm a pretty presentable person. Well, as presentable as I normally am.
This was very exciting news, because yes(!), I can finally work out again! I hadn't worked out since that disastrous Thanksgiving run, where my lungs decided to stop working on me and I couldn't finish. Not that I'd been working out as steadily as I would've liked before then. That's another story. Anyway, now I had no more excuses. My legs were ready, my lungs kind of ready, but most importantly, my mind was ready. I was going to run.
I hadn't been coughing so much, so I didn't think it was an issue. I had a decent dinner beforehand, and waited the usual amount of time before heading down to the building's (thankfully empty) weight room (timed during a commercial break of Top Chef) to watch the rest of the episode while running.
Everything was going great. I was well-hydrated and off to a great start. Ariane just won the Elimination Challenge (aside: who else thought it was hilarious that Padma tried to pretend that she and Gail really are BFF outside of the show?) much to the displeasure of Jamie and I was now running at around a 6 mph pace. Cool.
In order for me to think that any running cardio workout is actually worthwhile, I've gotten to the point where I have to run at least 5 minutes (normally 10) on 6.5 mph. This is a holdover from FBI training days (something I have been inching back towards these days) when 6.5 was the minimum pace for passing the 2 mile run part of the physical fitness test. So I put it on 6.5 and for about 2.5 minutes, it went really well.
Then it happened--my mouth began getting abnormally dry and my lungs started to feel weird. They didn't really hurt like running outside in NY, but something unnatural was happening in there. I realized that I needed to cough, and specifically needed to cough something, um, up. Now, I'm in the weight room in my building, so I can't really spit on the floor, but I really really want to finish my workout. At this point, I know that I can't run longer than 5 minutes on 6.5, and should be glad to finish even that. After those five minutes, I started cooling down and taking the speed on the treadmill back down in intervals. Then I began coughing and it was horrible.
Now I really needed to spit, but I still had five minutes left on my workout, and I was going to finish dammit. So I hold it. It's only five minutes right? Then, after 2 minutes of agony, I begin to cough again. I HAD NO CHOICE. I spit into my hand. So there I was, cooling down while holding my left hand as far away from me and the treadmill as possible. I could still make it and then go wash my hand in the small bathroom attached to the weight room. I could do it. Two minutes, I have two minutes now.
Then the most horrible combination of events happened simultaneously. I was racked with another set of awful coughs as I once more lowered the speed on the treadmill awkwardly with my right hand, an act which caused me to stumble over my feet a little. The combination of all of these things led to one of the most cartoonish moments of my life: I nearly tripped over my feet and instinctively grabbed onto the treadmill WITH BOTH HANDS, and, um, naturally my left hand slips and I pretty much fall on the treadmill. Luckily the treadmill goes off immediately, lest it kill me with the tread. Now uncontrollably coughing, I make my way to the bathroom to get paper towels to try to clean off as much as I can.
I really hope the landlady didn't see it on the surveillance cameras--there's a 75% chance that she was watching one of her weird soap operas instead of the security feed anyway. But still. Worst gym experience ever. Before then I was going to do sit ups as well, but instead I just drank lots of water and slunk back to my apartment. It was such a humiliating experience that I was glad to be working out alone. So naturally I had to share it with all of you.
Maybe there is something to this whole "running outside" thing. Hmm.
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I can't run outside at all if it's below 50 degrees. My lungs are all, like, "HELL no!" And then it hurts to breathe for 2 days afterwards. It's somewhat akin to what I imagine having asthma is like.
Anyway, I've never actually fallen off a treadmill before, but I have walked into weight machines and I've knocked my ipod off the treadmill 20 times at least.
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