Power Surges

It's that time again, boys and girls, for hitting the gym to attempt to make the ol' bod have a shape other than "round".

Today was bike day. Not the killer distance day, just a shade over 3 miles. Enough to sweat, but not enough to prevent functioning for the remainder of the day.

That was the plan.

Unfortunately, my hormones had another devious design in mind.

While it is customary to sweat while exercising, are you aware that a "female power surge" also known as a "hot flash" can make a normal day at the gym a true exercise event?

Yep, it can.

So I'm wondering, did the power surge of a menopausal hot flash add to the workout's overall effect or did it simply punish me needlessly as I prayed for the fans above me in the gym to work a little harder to keep me from bursting into flames?

I was reasonably sure when I hit the 2.5 mile mark on the hill setting that I was about to experience spontaneously combustion. Of course, that would have been something for the folks on the other apparatuses in the gym. They might wonder if that was some new feature of the equipment or simply say to themselves, "Gee, that fat chick might burn a while... maybe I should run down to Publix and grab some marshmallows, Hershey bars and graham crackers." Since they are all thin already, they can afford the extra calories from making the smores.

At one point, just prior to reaching today's chosen mileage, I was reasonably sure that should I indeed explode into a conflagration of flaming glory that I would not actually reach the goal and my tombstone would forever after read "she couldn't cut the mustard".

Which is worse? Missing the workout goal or becoming a human torch?

There are issues with both items.

Thankfully, the power surge of hormonal imbalance faded about the time I was walking out to the van to suck down the water I had forgotten to bring inside. Water after exercise always tastes best to me when I feel I have "earned" the right to drink it. If I have been wimpy, it's not near as refreshing.

I have also begun to contemplate how this "extra" heat could be used in a effective manner.

Why doesn't some bright individual figure out a way to bank that heat so in the winter when I am freezing to death I'd be able to break open a lifesaving "hot flash" pack and warm up my Popsicle-like frame. That kind of study should be worth at least as much money as the kind people who studied cow flatulence received!! After all, women's issues and health circumstances are not mere hysteria!!

Anyway, I guess it's time to hit the showers. When you offend yourself with the aroma floating about you like Pigpen's cloud of dirt, then it's time to grab the bath gel and scrub off the stench.

Here's to you women, big and little and all sizes in between who continue to persevere at the gym, on the sidewalk, in your home and all over the world. May you have both the fortitude and the flame retardant DNA to carry on your chosen exercise regimen.