I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
February 1, 2009
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It is with great sorrow that I write to tell you the Ferrier Fitness Challenge has been clouded by scandal!
At first, things were going swimmingly. In other words, I was winning. Big time. The rules of our fitness challenge were simple- Whoever worked out the most minutes in one month’s time would get a $15 iTunes card. And I was, like, 100 minutes ahead of everyone else.
Suddenly, though, my husband began logging dozens and dozens of extra minutes on the calendar.
“I don’t get it,” I said, mystified, as I stared at the numbers. “You’ve hardly been to the gym at all this week.”
“Yeah, but I was on the elliptical for an hour,” he said casually. “And then I did weights.”
He was on the elliptical for an hour?! An HOUR?! I did the elliptical for 50 minutes, max, and was literally gasping for breath at the end of it.
How, I wondered, could I compete with someone who was in such great shape that he could go an HOUR on the elliptical every single time?!
And so, with shock and sorrow, I watched as Hubs came within five minutes of my own score, and began to reconcile myself to the knowledge that I might not win the Ferrier Fitness Challenge after all.
And I might be doing that now, if I hadn’t run into Hubs at the gym last Saturday. Because of our schedules, we almost always work out separately, but on this day, I managed to get in for a workout at the end of my writing time, and Hubs was still there as well.
Since the machines on either side of him were taken, I hopped up on an elliptical in the row behind him. I turned it up to level 8 and pushed start. And as I got going, I looked over at Hubs on his elliptical and I realized that he was working out ON LEVEL FIVE.
Level five. That’s a level for, like, grandpas and invalids. If I were to work out on level five, I could probably stay on the elliptical all day long.
I got down from my machine and walked over to him, where I angrily confronted him.
“Cheater!” I screeched loudly, since he had on his earbuds. Everyone turned to look at us.
“What?” Hubs said.
“All this time, I had no idea what was going on. And now, I’ve finally figured you out. You CHEATER!” The gym grew quiet as exercisers breathlessly watched our scene play out.
“What are you talking about?!” Hubs asked.
“I have two words for you, Cheater McCheater,” I informed him. “LEVEL. FIVE.”
With that, I turned on my heel and left. I got home and informed my stepdaughters of what the Cheater had been up to. They agreed that his duplicity was unacceptable.
Since that time, Hubs has made loose promises to crank up his elliptical levels, and he’s carefully kept his minutes just under mine, but I have no doubt that when February eleventh approaches, he’ll go on some sort of massive workout spree, leaving me in his dust. Because let’s face facts: Hubs is every bit as competitive as I am.
I still have a little something up my sleeve, though. If level five counts as exercise?
Then so does breathing. And I’m logging my breathing exercise as we speak…
This post originally appeared on Parents.com.
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