I'm still not done with the Harry Potter book, but I only have about 200 pages left to go, so I'm getting there as fast as my tired, strained eyes can take me. Working full-time and negotiating a number of side-projects has my reading time painfully limited.
Oh, but there's always the gym.
Chris and I are at the gym for about an hour every night, excluding most weekends. Usually 33 minutes of cardio on a treadmill, stepper, or elliptical machine (sometimes doing 11 minute increments on each machine to mix it up a bit, or banging out the whole 33 in one swoop) and then about 15 - 20 minutes with resistance training and an ab workout. My iPod, my meter, and my water bottle and I are a constant fixture at Undisclosed Gym, bouncing from machine to machine and occasionally singing out loud by accident.
But this week, not so much.
I'm the biggest geek of all time these days at the gym. I have my water bottle, my meter, a bottle of juice, and a 750 page book balanced on the edge of the treadmill. Forget the resistance training. Forget any abdominal exercises. I'm clutching the side of the seventh Harry Potter ... brick, really, and walking along for almost a full, joyful hour just so I can read the book. I'm not willing to let the need to read supersede (whoa, holy rhyme time) my fitness goals. And it's obvious that I have no shame and will bring the book to even the most meat-head of moments.
I can almost hear the guy behind me thinking out loud.
"Why is that girl reading a dictionary at the gym? And why the hell is she muttering happily to herself every few minutes?"
In my mind, he nudges the guy next to him. "Do you see this?"
"Dude, I so see it. Maybe she's learning English and that's why she's readin' the dictionary and stuff."
They high five.
And I keep reading. And walking. And hoping that I don't drop this massive book on my foot.
Larry would be proud.