So unlike me

I'm going to start with this - people who say things like, "I never used to work out, but now I do and I love it" really annoy me. I get irked by this kind of chirpy chatter.

Also, I never used to work out, but now I do and I love it.

When I was pregnant with Graham, Heather and I went to water aerobics faithfully. She was the faithfully part, to tell the truth, and I was just fully. It felt good, yes, and was fun. After our babies were born, we walked together regularly, again with Heather taking the lead. When she moved away, my commitment to fitness went with her.

When my kiddos were little little, I joined Gold's Gym. I tried going in the early morning. I even had a gym buddy - my friend Ulrike - who went at 5 a.m. and expected me to join her. On a few occasions, I managed to get there, bleary-eyed, but never frequently enough to make it a habit. It was tough every single morning I woke up in an attempt to get to the gym.

My best workout stretch during that year or so lasted only until Fantasia, dancer extraordinaire!, graduated from college and stopped teaching the hip hop class at Gold's Gym. But in the weeks I did attend, I learned that I pushed myself harder to music. That was good to know.

My family is certainly fit. My mom and sisters work out practically every day. My dad wears a pedometer (we call it the digiwalker!) and logs thousands of steps every single day. I have always been the slacker of the bunch who had to be coaxed into doing a Leslie Sansone DVD or a pilates routine with Courtney. Every year I would make a resolution to get fit, but halfheartedly. The cycle would continue. A few workouts here or there. Nothing consistent. Always starting over. Ugly workout pants to boot.

This spring, I signed up for another hip hop class at a local dance studio and loved it. I realized that a once a week class wasn't going to cut it in terms of helping me get in shape. Then I went to my doctor in April to talk about my health. He said I should be working out every day. He promised endorphins blah blah blah. It seemed out of reach. But on the way home, I really considered his advice. I told myself that if my doctor had written me an Rx for something, I would certainly go to the pharmacy and fill the prescription. His counsel to exercise was an Rx, it just wasn't one I could fill at the pharmacy.

Within a few weeks I joined the gym again. This time around, I tried to be both more realistic (I want to tone up vs. my old goal: I want to run a marathon) and more consistent. I also signed up with one of the gym trainers. My membership included a few sessions and I paid for a few more. I go again tomorrow, in fact, and unbelievably - but believe it! - I am looking forward to it. The trainer has pushed me and that's a very good thing. He has shown me how to use various machines and devices too. He's given me some accountability and some encouragement and some training. Hence the job description, I guess.

My friend Corinna and I are attending together as often as we can. That workout buddy principle is a good one, and we've shared some laughs. One of our first jaunts to the gym was for a Body Flow class. I raced to the store to exchange a pair of workout pants that were too large, selected (optimistically!) a pair TWO sizes smaller than the pair I was returning, ran home, put them on and dashed to the gym with my kids in tow. I was a few minutes late to the class, but Corinna saved a spot for me right next to her ... in the front row of the very full class. I stood on the mat, took a deep breath, and glanced at the mirror.

Egads! Those new pants were SKIN TIGHT. They were literally suctioned to my legs, hips and rear. It wasn't a pretty sight. Adding insult to injury, the t-shirt I'd randomly pulled from the drawer wasn't quite long enough. I spent most of the class tugging the pants down, then tugging the shirt, then the pants, then the shirt. It was a shame fest. But I'm good now. I kept the skin tight pants, but added a long tank top under any t-shirt I choose to wear. I definitely look like a madwoman when I work out, but I try to avoid staring directly into the mirrors.

Tonight I went to the gym. I did the elliptical machine for 20 minutes, then a circuit of free weights, weight machines (hip abduction, anyone?), ab exercises and push ups, followed by another 20 minutes on the treadmill, sprinting the last two minutes. My feet slapped the belt so loudly it sounded like a construction zone. I know I looked more like a mugging victim running for the police station than a sleek athlete, but I kept jogging.

I share these details only to create some kind of record, a personal history, if you will. Let it be noted that Erin, noted fitness slacker, has joined the endorphin club.

Now, one little problem. My kids don't much like going to the Kids Club! The automated message loop that plays whenever I'm on hold with the gym promises, "Your kids will love to play in our fantastic Kids Club." So far, only so so, but I tell them when we go that they are helping our family. I thank them for supporting me so that I can be a better mother. I threaten them with my biceps!