New Meaning of “Killer Workout”

See this?

That’s the handlebar of my “new” stationary exercise bike getting ready to sock me in the boob, or face, or some other upper-body location it’s not supposed to be touching.

A few days ago I started hunting around for an exercise bike to use while I’m watching TV as a lower-impact way to burn up a few calories, since lately, due to aging, fatness, general decrepitude, or all of the above, my feet and ankles have been giving me a little trouble when I walk too much or, God forbid, break into a jog.

Anyway, my mother-in-law remembered that her good buddy Ann happened to have one at her place that had belonged to Brad’s grandmother before she passed away a few years ago, so before we could say, “OK, we’ll take a look” (or anything, for that matter), said bike was promptly brought over for consideration.

I was initially not too excited about the thing. It looked kind of outdated, there was no shelf or drink holder, and it didn’t have a cool computer readout like I wanted. Besides, it had the dreaded moving handlebars–you know, the kind of thing you’d see Lucy and Ethel trying out at the gym, accompanied by a thundering laugh track. My darling husband chimed in, explaining to Ann’s husband that this probably wouldn’t work for me, given my boobs are way too big to work with those kind of handlebars, which led to a brief discussion on how to swing a golf club and other pursuits sometimes hindered by anatomy.

After some convincing, I decided to give the thing a try, so the guys took it next door to our house. Have I mentioned we live next door to Brad’s parents? Don’t cringe–having the in-laws over there is a great alternative to the inked-up local mutants we could have living next to us. Anyway, I didn’t try it out last night because I was way too busy watching Brad bowl, having some laughs, and eating my weight in french fries down at the local lanes.

I just got on it about an hour ago, however, and gave it a brisk and breathy fifteen minutes, and I’ve got to admit it’s not too bad! It runs smoothly, it’s fairly comfortable, and it even has a minimalist readout that I think is giving me a very optimistic estimate of the calories I’m burning as I ride. Also, the price was definitely unbeatable. I think I can use it for a while, at least until I find another one that satisfies more items on my checklist.

Still, if I don’t watch out, those handlebars are going to be the death of me, or at least the permanent disfigurement of me. My arms are a little too short to hold onto them, and besides, it is just too slapstick-silly. Instead I ride look-ma-no-hands style, but this doesn’t change the fact that there are two metal rods with rubber handles rapidly moving back and forth within a couple of inches of my face and body, and should I inadvertently move wrong, the colors black and blue will figure prominently in my future.

Nevertheless, I now have a stationary bike in my living room, ready to help me transform at least some of my daily TV watching into a less-sedentary activity. Many thanks to those responsible! That includes Brad’s grandma, who was a very cool lady and whose name and address are still taped to the back.


2 thoughts on “New Meaning of “Killer Workout”

  1. UPDATE: Brad tinkered around and detached the handlebars from the pedals, so now they just hang limply at the sides–a vast improvement! I think I’m still going to consider this a transitional piece of equipment, however. 😉

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