In which I surprise myself at the gym

Hurricane Irene screwed up quite a few things here in the Northeast last weekend, including my workout plans.

My highly-anticipated free-beer-and-BBQ 5K was postponed, understandably, leaving me with two days off from exercise and stuck huddled in the house with the family, praying the power didn't go out.

On Sunday night, after the all-day storm subsided, I had two thoughts:

I need to get away from these kids.

I need to get to the gym.

The surprising thing about the latter is, for the first time, I really wanted to go to the gym because I wanted to go.

I wanted to work out. I wanted to sweat. After nearly 9 months of heavy workouts and gym trips, for the first time I really wanted to go because I wanted to. Not because of guilt. Or because it was the day before weigh-in. Or because I should. Or even because I planned to.

But, finally, because I loved the feel of my muscles working hard, a soaking sweat and the satisfaction of a good effort.

Happily I drove over to the gym at 5:45 am and found it had power and was open. I hopped on the elliptical, dialed it up to Level 15 and 60 minutes of Random Hill fun.

And I friggin' killed it.

Seriously, those two days off yielded very fresh legs that were ready to roll. Normally I'll do 45 minutes on the elliptical, but I really wanted more, so I added another 15 minutes. I started out at my regular Level 10, but it felt way too easy. I had to jack it up to 15 before I felt like I was really working as hard as I wanted.

I hit that elliptical harder than ever before. Full of energy at 6 am and an awesome new playlist, I rode that machine into the ground and loved every minute of it.