Hour 1

Monday's are always the toughest days.
Wake up after a bad night's sleep. Drag myself to work. Open email.

Email: approximately a dozen notes requesting meetings for this week, and another dozen requesting to change already scheduled meetings to another time this week.

Organize to-do list. Get to-doing.

I opted to leave at 5 p.m. tonight and get started on my "hour of me."

I signed in at the gym, changed clothes and hit the treadmill. TV on. Headphones in. I ran 1.5 miles while watching the end of the 5:00 news and a few minutes of "Hardball with Chris Matthews."

Total time = 20 minutes.

I moved to the bike, attempted to put my water bottle in the holder but missed. Water everywhere. On my way back from the towel stand to wipe up my mess, I grabbed the latest "OK" magazine - Angelina wants to adopt more babies and the details of Madonna and Guy Ritchie's divorced are detailed in this issue. I selected the pre-set 20 minute hill-interval workout, and started pedaling. I opted for an episode of "King of Queens," instead of my usual news info. I don't care what the guy behind me thinks of my TV pleasure - it's my one hour. My thighs were burning after 12 miles.

Total time = 20 minutes.

Move to the leg machine, strap myself in, and start my 100 calf lifts. 44 pounds each leg. Calfs burning.

Music on the iPod: Cake, Distance.
Total time = 3 minutes. 1 minute each leg, 1 minute of break.

Move to the bench for sit-ups. I crunched through "Dontcha", courtesy of the Pussycat Dolls.
Total time = 4 minutes, 30 seconds.

I spent the rest of my hour stretching and it felt good. I wanted eggs for dinner. I stopped off at two grocery marts on my way home - both out of eggs. Who runs out of eggs? Starving, and annoyed that my hour was disturbed by no eggs, I grabbed a slice of cheese pizza and walked home.

I enjoyed the pizza, but I'd rather have eggs. Better luck tomorrow.