I walked confidently up to the gym doors, feeling all hard-core for being there at seven in the morning. A few days before, I had run outside with hat and mittens, and honestly? I hated being cold. At least the gym was warm. Besides, I was an adult now. Adults drink wine and clean the toilet before it gets gross and go to gyms.
I'm not going to lie. I felt intimidated by all of the fit people sweating profusely and running without actually going anywhere.
I stepped on the treadmill and looked at the controls. I tried to glance subtly at the people on either side of me to see which buttons they pressed first. Eventually I figured out that the green START button was probably a good place to start out.
At first, I felt awkward, but it didn't take me long to find my rhythm.
When I run, I retreat to a quiet space deep inside my own mind. After a few minutes of listening to my feet slap on the treadmill, I had slipped into that state of zen-like calm.
When all of a sudden...
I quickly regained my feet, threw my arms up in the air and shouted out:
Which was a good thing.
Because it ensured that everyone in the crowded gym was looking at me, instead of just the people closest to me.
The next morning, I decided that running with a hat and mittens wasn't so bad after all.