OK so some people love gyms, other people join gyms and only go a few times.
The latter type of people go a few times in the first month, maybe attend a few yoga classes, but then there’s this one particular universal gym-fork-in-the-road decision point late on a Sunday late afternoon- we’ve all been there…. dinner is still a couple of hours off and there’s nothing on TV.
You’ve watched all your DVD’s and the little imaginary “wants-to-be-thin you” sitting on your shoulder whispers “you could go to the gym”. So you grab your gym bag; you know the one, it sits by the bed for a few weeks until you kick it under the bed so your shame is hidden. Scouting around under the bed, pushing aside socks and that shoe you lost, you grab your gym bag, and the world seems to slow to half speed. It’s like walking underwater. Then Evil “deep fried mars bars are yummy you” steps on your toe and hides your car keys.
You find your keys in a drawer and get out the door then into the car. It starts, coughs, but kicks into life. You drive to the gym. You park directly out front only to discover the gym has been closed for thirty minutes because it’s Sunday.
But that was the old gym. I’ve now rejoined a well known gym chain which opens all hours and exists in many parts of the country- one of the newest is in Hornsby. I may also use the one in Canberra, or perhaps even the one across the road from work.
Hornsby has a nice big open room with all new equipment, the simpsons on tv, new changerooms with keycard swipe lockers, and between the girls and boys change rooms there’s a steam room, relaxation section and sauna.
That’s right, a steam room and a sauna! Alas no pool. There is a “Please wear swimming costumes” sign which is then double enforced with “unisex area” and then followed up by “Any nudity will be reported” (to whom?). This is Hornsby, not the Tulum Beach Mexico….
I’ve also been allocated a personal trainer, who will assess my fitness (which I think dear reader you could do from where you’re sitting right now) and then suggest an exercising plan (a regime even) which will maximise the chances of me reaching my goal (half-marathon next April). My real goal is to buy a house within a $30 cab ride of the city, but I’m not sure my personal trainer will be able to help me with that goal in only three sessions.
You may have already guessed the half-marathon thing is blue sky thinking as well.
My personal trainer hasn’t called me yet, so I guess I can’t be too unkind to them. They are sure to be some thin fit young gym junkie (barely surviving on rice crackers and the flavoured water from the fridge, bought at a staff discount) who will jump about like SanDeE* and tell me to run faster (I can only hope).
The plan is to commit to the gym once per week, and then when I can schedule regular sessions in my working week, twice per week. I might even ride my bike to the gym (although exercising just to get somewhere where more exercising is going to be done seems a little weird) when they install the bike racks.
But seeing I’m talking futures now and I joined the gym last week… well I have a way to go. And these honey roasted macadamias are SO yummy.
Buttered Side Up 