On Tuesday, I had a fast and short (3 miles) run scheduled. I was only able to run 0.8 miles until I had to stop due to my gag reflex getting the best of me. Here's what went down (from the beginning):
I've been hassling my husband to get his ass into the gym for quite some time now. He's attempted working out a few times, but never knows what to do so he quits. I've tried setting him up with a personal trainer and he did go a few times, but he quit as he felt he didn't have time to go. He also didn't even really attempt to complete the assigned work- outs on his own.
In September of 2011, I took a few weekend courses for Personal Training. With the knowledge that I gained, I made him a plan and offered it to him. He didn't even look at it.
Now, in February of 2013, my husband has a beer gut, a fat neck, and beyond poor posture. He also doesn't have any energy and spends all of his free time on the couch watching TV or snoring. You can call me a bitch, but I'm not living with this. I'm not going to watch my very attractive, 30 year old husband completely let himself go and turn into a fat couch potato while his wife is off running marathons and becoming a famous blogger.
On Monday, I suggested (as in he had no choice) that he go down to our home gym and work out (we have a treadmill, bike, weight bench and various weights/resistance bands, etc). Much to my surprise, he did. I was starting to get a little concerned after 50 minutes had gone by and he hadn't reappeared. I assumed he had either died or had tapped into the carboy of home-made wine that we have downstairs. Just as I considered going down to check on him, I heard him grunting up the stairs. He made his way to the couch drenched in sweat and beat red. I asked him how it went, he grunted and proceeded to watch TV. I felt it was a success.
On Tuesday, it was time for my run. He asked if he could bike while I was running. Of course he could!!! I was so thrilled that he was taking initiative to work out again! He started biking before I made it downstairs. I smiled at him as I walked over to the treadmill and started my warm-up. During my 6 minute walk, I noticed an odd odor. I didn't think much of it, I had the window open and basements tend to smell a little. 6 minutes later, I couldn't deal with the smell anymore. It kept getting worse and worse. I looked over to see if my husband was affected by this smell and found him pedaling his heart on the bike in his WORK clothes. Not work-OUT clothes, actual smelly-I-worked-for-15-hours-in-oil-gas-filth-and-dirt clothes. Socks and all. I tried to swallow it back, but at 0.8 miles he won. I left the gym angry. I didn't say anything while I was down there (I wanted him to finish his work out, at least), but once he came upstairs he got quite the ear-full about proper gym etiquite. Even if it's a home gym, if you're sharing it with someone you follow the rules:
BitchyD's Non-negotiable Gym Rules :
1) Go to the gym clean (I don't want to smell you)
2) Go to the gym in clean clothes (I don't want to smell you)
3) Don't wear body sprays or perfumes. They are exaggerated when you sweat (and I don't want to smell you)
4) Keep your manly grunt sounds to yourself (I don't want to hear you)
5) Don't let me catch you looking at me (I don't want to see you)
I explained my rules very clearly. We're good now!
Boo for not having a good run. Yay for Operation Hot Husband!!!!