Tears on the Treadmill

You guys, I have been living at the gym lately.

Well not really. I spend an hour there everyday but it feels like living, especially since I previously only owned a membership just to sound cool. But now I have that dress to wear and a wedding to attend and a summer to conquer. And for the first time ever, I feel like I can actually do it.

I think I may need a theme song. Suggestions are welcome.

So yesterday, as I was running and wishing I had larger lung capacity, I decided to watch Dr. Oz. I find him inspirational and informative and a lot less annoying than most talk show hosts. Yesterday's episode focused on the Transformation Nation campaign where people across the country are trying to be healthier, resulting in one person winning a million dollars.

SIDE NOTE: Why didn't I know about this six months ago? Apparently I am little late to this party.

Anyway, the top ten finalists were on the show and Dr. Oz interviewed each one. And let me tell you something: they are freaking amazing! One guy is losing weight so he can donate one of his kidneys to his ill wife; one woman is becoming a wellness coach to help inspire others; and another guy has encouraged more than 400 people to start living a healthier lifestyle. They were all so happy and encouraging and fit.

And before I knew it, I was blubbering on the treadmill. And I am pretty sure I was loud about it. And what is so strange about this entire thing is that I am not a crier. I tend to be the stoic type or only cry at Hallmark commercials, but yesterday's episode went straight to my heart and there I was, crying like a big, sweaty baby.

Transformation makes me weepy.

Which, by the way, did not help with my breathing. Actually, it rather hindered it and there may have been a snort involved. But let's pretend that didn't happen. And I am sure the person next to me enjoyed my public display of emotion, or PDE as I like to call it. Hopefully I didn't interrupt their stride.

But I realize I am not there to impress people with my athletic prowess, I am only there to survive my workout and come back again the next day. And if this process makes me emotional and my fellow treadmillers can't handle it, then they can run outside and hope a bird doesn't poop on them.

Operation: Don't Look Like a Sausage in your Bridesmaids Dress cannot be stopped!