Yesterday, at the gym, it seemed really really hard. I got a late start, couldn't get into the women's cardio room because every last piece of equipment, (even the rowing machines which are so difficult they're never full), were full, so I went down to the co-ed one. I couldn't figure out why it just seemed so damned *hard* to keep moving on the thing, but I pressed on, making myself push even though it hurt, figuring it was damn well good for me. And then I got to a mile a full 35 seconds earlier than I usually do.

Does this mean that I've improved or I just over-compensated for the pain? I felt great for most of the day today from the endorphins, though. Wow.

I went into the co-ed stretch room, headed towards an empty spot on a mat in the corner, hit the wall of fart stench and did a one-eighty to the other end of the room. Right by that empty spot, there was some guy, lying in a yoga pose, farting his brains out and sighing happily on an empty mat big enough for four or five other people, and the rest of us clustered in the other end. It was surreal. It was stanky over there, too.

Next time, I'm wating for room in the women's complex upstairs. Women might sometimes be bitchier and hog the equipment longer, but I've yet to run into someone hogging a whole row of mats just so they can "release your wind" in a yoga pose in public, in a women-only space. I'm not saying it couldn't happen, but I think it's worth the wait nonetheless.

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We saw Idiocracy tonight, finally, on DVD. There were bits of this movie so silly-but-funny that I giggled my heart out. I love that. I also teared up at the end. Yes, I cry easily. Still, I think it's worth renting, if you were wondering.

Really really tired this week, so I'm going to keep this short and head to bed. G'night everyone!