Tonight's adventure to the gym started on a sour note. As I've mentioned previously, the gym here at the apartment complex leaves much to be desired...and now we are adding a treadmill to that list of desire. It looks like someone stepped on the power cord on one of the treadmills, ripping it out of the machine. Because tonight was a cardio night for us, I told Jackie that she could have the treadmill and that I would hop on the bike.
When I got on the bike, I discovered that it, too, is broken. Well, "broken" isn't truly accurate. The bike is stuck in manual mode on level six. You can't change the program or intensity, and you can't enter a time. It will only let you pedal. And just for the record, level six is pretty tough. Luckily, I was so pissed that the other treadmill was broken I used that as motivation to push on. So that's what I did until Jackie finished the weight loss routine on the treadmill; then we swapped out. At this point I was already drenched in sweat and my legs were on fire. Jackie suggested that I try the weight loss routine. So, not wanting to be shown up by a girl, that's exactly what I did.
I was good to go for about the first 20 minutes, but I hit a wall with about 10 minutes to go. It was at this point that I kept telling myself that I wouldn't let Jackie beat me at this. My pride and ego provided enough fuel to finally finish. My calves felt like they were going to burst and my butt was sore.
So overall being pissed and prideful got me through my hour of cardio. Jackie not only is a great accountability partner, she is pretty good motivation!
(And no, I don't really think I did better than she did, as the title of this entry would imply. I just started thinking of that old song when I started writing this.)