Who goes to the gym on a Saturday night?

That's right: me. I have now joined the group of gym-rejects who find solice in a near-empty cardio floor, who embrace the sound of only a few pairs of feet hitting the usually crowded rows of treadmills, and who accept they have no social engagements-- just a date with spandex and tennis shoes-- on a Saturday evening. Yes, that is where I spent 2 hours on one of my only nights off: at The Sports Mall running my date night away.

Why, you ask, would I run on a Saturday night when my Saturday mornings are usually spent running with my dear friends, supporting each other, cheering each other on, and then socializing about our pain and suffering over brunch? Because there was no social-suffering for me yesterday-- unless you count the many complaints my poor photographer, Dan, had to listen to repeatedly about missing said group run. I had to go into work early to cover a funeral (you can watch the tragic story here), therefore, missing the blessed group run, and forcing me to spend my evening after work on a lonely treadmill surrounded by workout misfits. And what a sight we were.

To my left, there was a woman wearing glasses that put magnifying glasses to shame, a workout headband from my 80's Get in Shape Girl outfit with wristbands to match, and a tennis skirt, who randomly blurted out verses of unrecognizable songs from her headphones.

To my right, a man who looked and smelled as though he hadn't left his recliner in a year, and bless his heart, who couldn't figure out the controls on the treadmill. I assisted, of course.

Directly behind me was a sweet woman from Afghanistan who was walking the entire time I ran and said "wow, you are an athlete!" in the locker room. Just the encouragement I needed.

A few treadmills down, an escaped Miss America contestant, complete with pageant hair and red lips, walked briskly for about 5 minutes, appeared winded, and retreated to her water bottle and towel.

And over in the weight room section, there was a man who brought several torn-out magazine pages with what appeared to be a basic "how-to-exercise" manual he would refer to after every move.

But run away I did (not literally, though that might have been the sane thing to do). 9 miles, in fact: 91 minutes. I hour-and-freaking-half-in-a-row. And the foot? Felt pretty good, actually. I even felt when I finished as though, if I had to, I could have kept on truckin'. And wow, did I feel an amazing sense of accomplishment! I am woman-- see me run!

After my run, I gave myself a mega-stretch, and then somehow had the energy to do 50 sit-ups and 25 pushups.

And that is my challenge to you ladies: after every run, do at least 50 sit-ups and 25 push-ups. And for all of you who do, I'll have a special surprise for you at the next group run I am in charge of planning. Here's to tighter abs and no relief society arms!

It was lonely, and I missed my girlies, but if I can make it through gym-reject night, I can make it through 26.2!

Cannot WAIT till next Saturday when we can run together-- and Kera, you betta believe we're running all 115, rain, snow, wind, or sun. In Arnold style: I'll be back:)