I woke up at 5:30 a.m. to a resounding realization: I had slept through the night. Six hours, to be exact. HALLELUJAH!!!
Why so remarkable? Well, for women of a certain age, one’s hotness increases exponentially. The want to rip clothes off kind. Not stop traffic hotness. The “Omigawd, I am burning from within” kind. Yup. I’ve had the pleasure of hot flashes for the past 7 years. I started doing time at age 45 and there are no signs of early parole. On a good night, I generally wake up 3 times. On a bad night, it’s like having a newborn again, without the joy of holding a cute little bundle.
Six hours of uninterrupted sleep and I was wide awake, pondering going to work. That’s when my Supersvelte alter ego woke up. “Let’s go to the gym!” she said, unbearably perky. But I went yesterday after work, only 12 hours ago, said Ms. Hedonistic. “You can do something different so that you use different muscles,” she stated, without empathy. But … there were no buts. I got my generous butt out of bed. My workout gear was already packed. I slipped my gear on, grabbed my floor-length coat and braced myself for the icy blast of minus 53-degree (with the wind chill) weather. There’s nothing to block the wind on the majestic Canadian Prairies, so it goes without saying that there’s generally a wind chill. It was pitch dark and no one else on my street was up.
At my new gym (Anytime Fitness, open 24 hours a day to prevent excuses), a variety of folks were working out. At 5:45 a.m.! I chose the treadmill and turned on MuchMusic. My friend Rihanna smiled saucily at me, and this was an early video where she spent a lot of time clutching her nether regions in various contorted positions. The more she did that, the more I vowed to be clutch-worthy again. Before I knew it, I had broken into a trot. Yup. 4.5 mph on the treadmill. I loped along for 30 seconds and came to my senses. Now Gwen Stefani was leering at me, wearing plaid and a midriff-baring get-up. So I broke into another running spurt for 30 seconds.
35 minutes on the treadmill. One minute of jogging. Level 5. Rihanna and Gwen, be afraid. Be very afraid.
supersvelte 