Putting pride aside

I am nowhere near the exercise fiend that my wife is. If she says she's going to the gym, she's going to the gym. She's like the post office -- neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays my wife from the swift completion of her rounds at the exercise machines. If there were an earthquake that destroyed the gym, I believe she would climb through the rubble, dust off the seat of a spin bike, and get to work. I, too, am like the post office in that it takes me a couple of days to deliver on my promise of going to work out. Since the turn of the new year, I have been to Gold's Gym three times in five days; and for that I am proud. Today, putting male pride aside, I even joined my wife for a 40-minute, instructor-guided session on the spin bikes. I insisted that we set up at the back of the room so the other participants would not have to watch me struggle. As it turns out, I rather enjoyed the workout. While I was the only male in this session, I didn't feel out of place. Everyone was there to burn calories and work up a sweat, so they didn't care what the person next to them or behind them was doing. We were all just trying to keep pace with the instructor. I was trying not to look like a quitter, or more importantly, die. My workout fiendishness will never approach that of my wife, but if I can go postal (in an exercise sense) just a fraction of the amount that she does, I think it'll deliver some results. (photo courtesy of kretyen's Photostream at http://www.flickr.com/photos/kretyen/2703821359/)