Have you ever felt like a hamster in a wheel?  You just keep churning and churning, but not getting anywhere.  Well…that darn dreadmill (because I dread it like the plague)…deadmill (because I feel like I’m dying)…treadmill, whatever the hell you want to call it, I hate it.

It’s been a few weeks since my first blog when I talked about getting out on the road and trying to wog again.  Well, I finally got out again…many weeks later.  Can’t rush perfection.  However, the weather was super windy and calling for rain so I jumped on that awful treadmill.

I don’t know how people do this all the time.  I mean, my lord, one minute feels like forever.  You have gone nowhere.  You are still in the same spot from where you started.  Hamster in a wheel concept.   I try to listen to songs, but the scenery is still the same.

I took a few pictures..and yes they are blurry.  What do you expect?!  I’m on the dang treadmill!

Wogging, walking, running, jogging is all mental.   I have to convince my mind of progress.  Damn dreadmill has me like a hamster in a wheel.

Yes…I know that any movement is better than no movement.   Whew..but still.  I catch myself just watching the seconds slowly, I mean slower than a snail in a jar of peanut butter slow, tick away.  I try to put myself into songs.  I need to keep Vanilla Ice’s “Ice Ice Baby” just on repeat.  I can sing that song word for word, without Vanilla’s help.  At least that would keep my mind off the dreaded time.

I told myself this go around I would be on the treadmill 30 minutes.  I look down at the time and I cannot believe I haven’t even gone 10 minutes yet.  I’m going to die!  Literally, keel over and die.

My little Gracie Mae comes out for moral support.  I’m like…yeah…I need you, baby girl.  Help Moma get through this.

My hunka hunka says it’s the humming of the treadmill.  It was no time at all, my little princess crashed and fell asleep, even through my loud jamming to Vanilla.  I’m so loud singing that song that I thought I possibly disturbed the neighbors.

But no…she’s down for the count…

I watched my distance and my time the entire duration.  I would wog at times for half a lap at 6 mph.  Then walk at 4 mph.  I did make it to 25:00 minutes.  It wasn’t easy.  My ankles had just about reached their peak of gassing out, along with the rest of my body.  It was so dang difficult.

The highlight is definitely my hunka hunka.  No matter how much I could fall over dead, he always tells me he’s proud of me.  Even if I had only walked for 10 minutes, he would still say he’s proud of me.  That’s a team!

Trust me…we all know what’s right for our bodies and what isn’t.   Anybody can be an armchair quarterback.  I am every Sunday with football.  Exercising is very similar to dieting.  It is a every day battle, and just gets harder as you get older.  Anyone who has done it is always the expert at the moment.  Keep that in mind when you start telling someone how to exercise or how to eat.   I can never tell you how you should do it; I can only tell you how I do it and what works for me.

I may get back on that darn dreadmill again because until I get my body into a regular routine, this fair-weathered wogger is just not up for battling the cold.  I remember it used to take me longer to dress and undress on below-zero freezing days than it would take me to run three miles.  It is much easier to walk out to my dreadmill.  However, it is even easier to say no all together and sit my happy butt on the couch.  But then each time I do that, I hate myself.  I miss running.  I miss it like there’s no tomorrow.   I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I was REALLY good at running.  OK…toot toot.  To do something for 20 years and then convince myself it’s not in my cards was difficult.  But the hardest part is taking that first consistent initiative to commit again.   It takes both time and dedication.  Do I have it in me?  Anyone can take that first step.  Hell, I did it outside a few weeks ago.  I felt so good.  I felt the true mood changer once I was finished.  Being consistent…yeah…that’s the biggie.  In my opinion, that’s where we all fail.  I think about dieting every day.  I’m not the person I used to be.  I start off the day with the best intentions, but food is so tasty.  It’s hard to say no and be consistent.   That’s for another blog another day.

Until the next time I drag my booty to the dreadmill…Peace out, Trout!