After five straight days of Disneyland, I've completely overdosed on the saccharine sweetness (in more ways than one) of the Magic Kingdom, so it's a good thing we hightailed it out of Anaheim this morning. More importantly, this also means I'm done with working out in a pitch-black hotel room after my exhausted, sugar-loaded, pirate-obsessed kids have passed out for the night.
We're now in L.A., visiting M's sister, and staying at a hotel with a fitness center that actually stays open past 8 p.m. -- shocking! I'm no fan of hotel fitness centers, but I was just happy to have a set of dumbbells and a weight bench at my disposal, so I took full advantage and did both Workouts A and B of the 2K4 version of Turbulence Training.
The hotel gym was empty (except for a maintenance worker trying to fix a broken treadmill), so I got the place to myself. I've become so accustomed to working out alone that I bet I'd feel self-conscious exercising in a crowded gym now.
The only other person who appeared to be exercising was a middle-aged woman who was walking up and down the hall outside the fitness center. She passed by every few minutes, slowly strolling by in high-heeled clogs. She did this for forty-five minutes. I wanted to run out of the fitness center and tell her she needed to ditch her shoes and pick up the pace. But then I'd be even more of an asshat than I already am.
