Since as long as I can remember, hubby has been craving a treadmill. But not just any treadmill. Nay verily, the treadmill that he coveted is the biggest, baddest, and most feature-laden treadmill on the market. Oh, excuse me --it's not a treadmill; it's an incline trainer. At first I laughed at him for it - who in the world would want to treadmill-ize uphill and downhill? But then he explained the features to me and its benefits, and so guess what?
We got one.
And I gotta admit, it is one sexy piece of exercise machinery. It has Google Maps built into its built-in Wifi connection so you can literally "hike" anywhere in the world. I could jog in Paris if I wanted to. All on a treadmill. It has trainers built into it. It will automatically incline and decline according to the "terrain" you've selected. It has regimens built in for weight loss, competition, marathon training, and probably a whole heck of a lot of other things I can't even begin to fathom.
I'm addicted. No, seriously. I actually have used the thing, of my own free will and voluntarily and all that stuff. Twice in one day, in fact (yesterday). I am becoming an exercise addict, despite my processed-couch-potato nature. Determination has set in to get rid of my belly (it's significant) and get some definition to my cankles.
Yesterday I got one-third of the way through one of the trainer workouts, and then just alternated between jogging and walking at 3 mph until I had burned 350 calories. I was proud. Today, I got to 126 calories and had to stop. But I did go for 3 of the 4 miles of the dog-walk today (each lap around our dwelling area is a mile).
And my legs? Oh, they hurt. They gloriously ache, burn, throb, and protest against this amazing activity. But I discovered something that I never really believed existed until I experienced it for myself: