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I recently moved things around in the house again. My bedroom is now shared with the washer/dryer, but that’s fine. It makes for a nice cozy little room. And let’s be honest… I spend far more time elsewhere in the house. The living room, office, kitchen… my bedroom doesn’t need to be all that big.
One of the advantages of moving rooms is that it opened up space for my sorely-neglected treadmill to be set up again. I bought that treadmill last year, and in pure Stephen-fashion, I haven’t exactly been a faithful user. So today I pulled myself out of bed, and threw on my sneakers and went for a 20 min walk. I wasn’t exactly a stress-walk, but you have to start somewhere. I watched an episode of The Sports Show With Norm MacDonald, so it was far from a boring tread. (I’ll say “tread” rather than “workout” because, let’s be honest, there wasn’t much of a workout… although yeah, I did sweat a little… or as the ladies like to say, I glistened)
They say that you should reward yourself to stay motivated, so after I was done, I immediately ate the remaining 3 pieces of Twix that had somehow been forgotten last night, and polished them off with a glass of Coke… effectively nullifying (and then some!) any calories that I might have lost on my 20 min tread.
But at least I can look my doctor in the eye on Friday when she asks me if I’ve started to exercise after our last meeting. “Oh yes, Lisa… I’ve gotten back on the treadmill”
So…. I’m back on my “Healthy Improvement Plan”… or what I like to call Steve 2.0. I finally managed to get the treadmill put together recently. And by “I”, I mean “someone else”. But I supervised, so that has to count for something! And surprisingly, I’ve been using it for more than hanging my clothes on… as my poor roomie discovered when he thought the house was falling down, and realized that it was just me galloping along as a steady pace. Now, I warn him if he’s around. He thinks it’s so that he knows what the noise is all about. It’s really so that I have someone to call 911 in the event that my pulse exceeds recommended safety levels.
And what’s a new treadmill without new sneakers to tread with? I went into Foot Locker a couple of weeks ago, determined not to come out of there empty handed. My current sneakers were rotting off my feet. It was time for an upgrade.
There were two employees in the store as I walked in. Some guy who I barely registered as even being there… and a pleasant sales girl.
“I need new sneakers”, I explained as I pointed out the lovely holes in the sides of the ones I was wearing. “Nothing overly fancy… I’m not going to be running (Yeah, as if she hadn’t come to that conclusion on her own).. but I’d like to get back on the treadmill again.”
She took a pair of Nikes off the wall, and told me that they were very popular. They didn’t look too bad. Do they come in half sizes? Yes. Awesome. Do they have 10 1/2? Nope. I tried on the 10s and 11s, but they weren’t going to work. I needed the 10 1/2.
Then she handed me a different style. I didn’t like them as much, but I’m a sucker when it comes to these situations.
“Here, try these…” She slid a cute little rubber heel thing into the sneaker. “It’s for additional support”
“Yeah, but will it make me run like a gazelle?”
I stumped her. She obviously didn’t know if I was serious or not. She burst out laughing, but she just didn’t know what to say. Score one for Stephen.
Actually, they didn’t feel too bad. And anything that was going to take some of the shock out of my treading was probably a good thing.
“I’ll take them!” I told her.
Then she started to up-size my combo…
“You should really spray those with a sneaker spray before you use them. It will help protect them.. yadda yadda…” I stopped listening…
“Sounds good. I’ll take it”
Looking back, it’s a minor miracle that I didn’t leave there with my arms full of sneakers and a burning hole in my wallet. This girl probably could have sold me anything, but thankfully stopped after the magical sneaker spray. It wasn’t until next day that I realized that I probably didn’t need all this stuff, but hey.. all in the name of healthy lifestyle, right?
And a healthy lifestyle includes more than just a fancy pair of sneakers, and a shiny new treadmill. I have to start looking at some of the junk that I’m putting in my body. Yeah, I know.. I’ve talked about this before… on and off the bandwagon like.. I dunno.. is there anything that fits that sentence? But I think you get my point.
So yesterday I went to the City Market for lunch. I was thinking about getting a nice chicken salad sandwich, but I had been told that the Wild Carrot Cafe served awesome sandwich wraps. It’s not the first time that I’ve heard of the Wild Carrot Cafe, but I hadn’t put much faith in its ability to satisfy my hunger before yesterday. Its name doesn’t suggest “deep fried”, “trans-fat”, or “chocolate covered” anything. I wasn’t sure that they would even serve me.
“I’m sorry, sir. You seem to be mistaken. McDonalds is in the food court.”
As I stood at the counter and tried to look somewhat less awkward than I felt, I told the girl that I would like to try the chicken ranch wrap. On whole wheat. Wait, it gets better. With light dressing.
“Are those chickpeas?”, I asked… pointing at a container of something. “I’m told that I’m supposed to try those sometime.. might as well be now!”
When I came back to the office, the guys looked at me funny. Where’s the standard brown bag with the golden arches prominently displayed? Where’s the Coke? Where’s the beef? (Sorry, had to)
It was good! I quite enjoyed it, although I will admit.. the chickpeas add a different consistency than I’m used to.
As if that wasn’t enough, I stopped at Sobeys on the way home to pick up a few things. I bought several pieces of chicken, a European salad blend, a cucumber, and… wait for it… baby spinach. I’ve never bought spinach in my life, but I’ve seen it thrown into salads, and rumour has it that it’s good for me.
And if you haven’t already stopped reading from disbelief, I skipped the pop and chips aisle completely… which threw off the rest of my shopping trip because I was going up and down aisles in the opposite direction from that point on. I deviated from my regular path. I broke free of the chains of habit.
Half a chicken breast cut up with the salad, topped with sun-dried tomato dressing, and a big glass of milk… and I was full. I was quite surprised. The spinach didn’t taste bad at all. I plan on having the rest tonight when I get home.
Unless my body gives out prior to that from the sudden injection of healthy eating, and a lack of pure junk.
Oh, and if anyone needs any magical sneaker spray…