Running NASCAR style....

So, I thought, if I even attempt to cook several of the recipes from MtAoFC, I need to have a fitness plan in place. I'm no butterball, but well on my way if I were to eat my way through any of JC's dishes. I load the kids into the car this afternoon and headed off to the gym. Another bit of motivation, my husband returns home for Christmas in 9 days. For ten faithful weeks, during my husband's Basic Combat Training (BCT) in the Army, (yes, I failed to mention that I'm an Army wife) I went to the gym at least twice a week or more. Since he graduated BCT 4 weeks ago and left to continue training in Texas, I haven't been so faithful with my gym membership. Let's just say, since my birthday of delicious Chinese food, Thanksgiving at four different locations and just slipping up, I have gained what I lost since September. I'm not happy with myself, but it is what it is.
I enter the gym, drop off the boys and head upstairs to the "WALKING TRACK" , it's nothing but left hand turns today. It's full on rubbing and racing with the other members at the gym. It's NASCAR at it's best with men, women and the physical fitness challenged. I begin my workout with 4 laps walking at a good pace, then 4 laps of running/jogging/waddling (call it like you see it) and then I slow it down with 4 laps of walking. Next I move onto 5 minutes on the stationary bike and then another 4 laps around the track. During my workout, I notice while listening to my iPod tucked into my sports bra, 1) because I lost the clip/arm band I had and 2) you work with what you got, I see all kinds of things. So, I'm out there giving it my all and here come the gazelles, the tiny women who eat nothing but 750 calories all day and think that it's still too much and are wearing the cute yoga Capri's and yoga tanks without a shirt. They're running, gracefully, not breaking a damn sweat. It's enough to make you sick. The herd has grown to three middle-aged soccer moms, who's kids go to private Catholic school and they've never farted at all in their life. Running together, trying to outdo each other with each lap, while rubbing it in to the others like me. Why don't they just turn around, stick out their tongues, put their thumbs to their temples and wave at me? I began to RUN my last two laps, I mean really run and I'll be damned if they didn't pass me without speeding up. I'm just disgusted with it all and all I can think about is what I'm eating for dinner. My mouth is watering, I can almost smell the Chicken Cordon Bleu and Roasted Brussels Sprouts with lots of butter and Pineapple Casserole for desert. (Thank you Paula Deen for making Brussels sprouts edible!) I finish my workout, get the boys and head home to preheat my oven.