I was in an unfamiliar place. The air around me was strange. I could feel the heat pulsating through the atmosphere. Visual imagery bombarded my sight. There was a low hum and the sound of clanking metal.
I had stepped onto another planet.
I joined a gym. Planet Fitness. Ever hear of it? They have these commercials where this big body-builder guy walks around and in his Arnold Schwarzenegger-like voice says, “I pick zings up and put zem down.” He eventually gets shown the back door “stretching area”…and gets locked out of the place. It’s kinda funny. Anyhow, I’m rambling…This is actually the second time I joined a gym. About 16 years ago, I thought I’d be cool and join the Y. (You know, the YMCA.) They have a pool and classes and a cool workout room. I paid my full-year membership fee (it was like $200 or something) and got my little membership card…and never went back. Seriously. I didn’t go one single time. What an awful waste of money. But I’m sure there are a few of you out there who can relate…huh? But this time is different. And I know this because I signed up on Friday and I’ve already gone once! Woohoo! A new record! (Feel free to applaud.)
Even though I was actually a bit nervous, I sauntered into the place like I knew what I was doing. I headed back to the locker rooms with my newly purchased combination lock (which I picked up at the dollar store next door – how convenient!) and shoved all my stuff inside the locker. Then I couldn’t get the lock to close. I took it off the locker, closed it, opened it again and put it back on. Nope. Still couldn’t close it. Tried it again. And then tried about four more times. Cripes! I’ve been here 10 minutes and I can’t even get out of the stupid locker room! Dumb dollar store lock. Finally, I got the thing to lock and I walked into the workout area with purpose.
As I’m strolling into the abyss of machines I think to myself, “Hmmm…I wonder if I should have peeled the sticker with the combination printed on it off the back of the lock? Eh. I won’t be here that long.” Woah. It's crowded in here today. (Note to self: stay away from the gym on Saturdays.)
I'm here out of guilt though. Remember the promise to myself – about rewarding myself with donuts? Oh boy, did I ever. I went to Tim Horton’s, picked up a dozen and ate my fill. (Which isn’t nearly as bad as you think. I ate two.) I was feeling slightly guilty about that. Knowing I have another torture run in my near future (tomorrow, to be exact) I dragged my butt to Planet Fitness to “get fit” in their “judgment-free zone.” I was a tad overwhelmed with all the equipment…I haven’t worked out on all that Nautilus stuff since I was in college. And a few new machines have been invented since then. I stuck to the least overwhelming thing I could find – the trusty old treadmill. I asked the perky little teenager behind the counter to show me how to set it up. (All these new high-tech ones have too many buttons everywhere…) I wonder how jiggly my butt looks from behind? Shoot. I shoulda picked a treadmill in the back row. I did my 35 minutes of walking/running while I watched 14 different TVs. No volume, of course. I didn’t bring any headphones. Which apparently, you need to have in order to plug into the treadmill that connects to the sound on the televisions. Oh well. Next time I’ll remember those.
This week I’m definitely signing up for my personal training. It comes with the membership and hopefully I’ll get some tutoring on all those crazy death-trap machines that are supposed to make me look like a super-model. (Okay...stop your laughing.)
I got off my treadmill and wiped it down with the paper towel and spray stuff, which I noticed everyone else doing, so I followed suit. After all, I didn’t want to get the reputation of being some sweaty, skank, spoiled workout girl who doesn’t clean up after herself.
I walked back to the locker room feeling good about burning off the calories in half of one of those donuts. As I attempted to unlock my locker (I referred to the sticker on the back with the combination on it…cuz I can’t remember anything) and of course, couldn’t get the thing opened. And yes, I realize that leaving the sticker on the back of the lock pretty much voids the purpose of locking it to begin with, but hey – I’m counting on the laziness of the gym attendees to not want to bother with looking at the backs of the locks and stealing my old Eddie Bauer jacket, Detroit Tigers sweatshirt and fake Dolce Gabbana purse. Next time, I’ll cement those numbers to my memory and maybe I’ll peel that sticker off. (Or at the very least, I’ll write the combination on a piece of tape and stick it to my shoe.) After another 10 minutes of fiddling with my dumb dollar store combination lock, muttering a few choice curse words and working up quite a sweat in the process, I managed to unlock my belongings and get outta there. (That must have burned at least another 30 calories, right?)
So. What’s the point of me sharing my first sordid tale of going to the gym for the first time ever? Actually, there’s several!
(1) There really IS a first time for everything.
Even though I’m 38 years old and I’ve never gone to a real gym, I did it. Anything is possible. You could do it too. Or whatever else you’ve been putting off. There really is a first time for everything.
(2) Guilt. It can be an asset.
The only reason I went to said gym for the first time ever was out of guilt. I felt guilty for splurging on those two donuts, so I went. Guilt is a powerful emotion. And although guilt is often made out to be the villain in so many situations, it’s powers can be used for good. If guilt can make you do something positive in your life, then I say, “Three cheers for guilt!” Take it and run with it. Sometimes, guilt can work in your favor.
(3) Donuts. Are they worth it?
Yes and no. Donuts taste really yummy. And I will still fantasize about them while I'm getting tortured on long runs. But are they worth all that work to burn them off? I say, “No.”
(4) Donuts. Will I still eat them?
Hell yeah. Some things are just too good to say no to. Life is short. Guess I’ll just have to log a few more hours at the gym this week.
Three cheers for guilt! (And donuts!)
I had stepped onto another planet.
I joined a gym. Planet Fitness. Ever hear of it? They have these commercials where this big body-builder guy walks around and in his Arnold Schwarzenegger-like voice says, “I pick zings up and put zem down.” He eventually gets shown the back door “stretching area”…and gets locked out of the place. It’s kinda funny. Anyhow, I’m rambling…This is actually the second time I joined a gym. About 16 years ago, I thought I’d be cool and join the Y. (You know, the YMCA.) They have a pool and classes and a cool workout room. I paid my full-year membership fee (it was like $200 or something) and got my little membership card…and never went back. Seriously. I didn’t go one single time. What an awful waste of money. But I’m sure there are a few of you out there who can relate…huh? But this time is different. And I know this because I signed up on Friday and I’ve already gone once! Woohoo! A new record! (Feel free to applaud.)
Even though I was actually a bit nervous, I sauntered into the place like I knew what I was doing. I headed back to the locker rooms with my newly purchased combination lock (which I picked up at the dollar store next door – how convenient!) and shoved all my stuff inside the locker. Then I couldn’t get the lock to close. I took it off the locker, closed it, opened it again and put it back on. Nope. Still couldn’t close it. Tried it again. And then tried about four more times. Cripes! I’ve been here 10 minutes and I can’t even get out of the stupid locker room! Dumb dollar store lock. Finally, I got the thing to lock and I walked into the workout area with purpose.
As I’m strolling into the abyss of machines I think to myself, “Hmmm…I wonder if I should have peeled the sticker with the combination printed on it off the back of the lock? Eh. I won’t be here that long.” Woah. It's crowded in here today. (Note to self: stay away from the gym on Saturdays.)
I'm here out of guilt though. Remember the promise to myself – about rewarding myself with donuts? Oh boy, did I ever. I went to Tim Horton’s, picked up a dozen and ate my fill. (Which isn’t nearly as bad as you think. I ate two.) I was feeling slightly guilty about that. Knowing I have another torture run in my near future (tomorrow, to be exact) I dragged my butt to Planet Fitness to “get fit” in their “judgment-free zone.” I was a tad overwhelmed with all the equipment…I haven’t worked out on all that Nautilus stuff since I was in college. And a few new machines have been invented since then. I stuck to the least overwhelming thing I could find – the trusty old treadmill. I asked the perky little teenager behind the counter to show me how to set it up. (All these new high-tech ones have too many buttons everywhere…) I wonder how jiggly my butt looks from behind? Shoot. I shoulda picked a treadmill in the back row. I did my 35 minutes of walking/running while I watched 14 different TVs. No volume, of course. I didn’t bring any headphones. Which apparently, you need to have in order to plug into the treadmill that connects to the sound on the televisions. Oh well. Next time I’ll remember those.
This week I’m definitely signing up for my personal training. It comes with the membership and hopefully I’ll get some tutoring on all those crazy death-trap machines that are supposed to make me look like a super-model. (Okay...stop your laughing.)
I got off my treadmill and wiped it down with the paper towel and spray stuff, which I noticed everyone else doing, so I followed suit. After all, I didn’t want to get the reputation of being some sweaty, skank, spoiled workout girl who doesn’t clean up after herself.
I walked back to the locker room feeling good about burning off the calories in half of one of those donuts. As I attempted to unlock my locker (I referred to the sticker on the back with the combination on it…cuz I can’t remember anything) and of course, couldn’t get the thing opened. And yes, I realize that leaving the sticker on the back of the lock pretty much voids the purpose of locking it to begin with, but hey – I’m counting on the laziness of the gym attendees to not want to bother with looking at the backs of the locks and stealing my old Eddie Bauer jacket, Detroit Tigers sweatshirt and fake Dolce Gabbana purse. Next time, I’ll cement those numbers to my memory and maybe I’ll peel that sticker off. (Or at the very least, I’ll write the combination on a piece of tape and stick it to my shoe.) After another 10 minutes of fiddling with my dumb dollar store combination lock, muttering a few choice curse words and working up quite a sweat in the process, I managed to unlock my belongings and get outta there. (That must have burned at least another 30 calories, right?)
So. What’s the point of me sharing my first sordid tale of going to the gym for the first time ever? Actually, there’s several!
(1) There really IS a first time for everything.
Even though I’m 38 years old and I’ve never gone to a real gym, I did it. Anything is possible. You could do it too. Or whatever else you’ve been putting off. There really is a first time for everything.
(2) Guilt. It can be an asset.
The only reason I went to said gym for the first time ever was out of guilt. I felt guilty for splurging on those two donuts, so I went. Guilt is a powerful emotion. And although guilt is often made out to be the villain in so many situations, it’s powers can be used for good. If guilt can make you do something positive in your life, then I say, “Three cheers for guilt!” Take it and run with it. Sometimes, guilt can work in your favor.
(3) Donuts. Are they worth it?
Yes and no. Donuts taste really yummy. And I will still fantasize about them while I'm getting tortured on long runs. But are they worth all that work to burn them off? I say, “No.”
(4) Donuts. Will I still eat them?
Hell yeah. Some things are just too good to say no to. Life is short. Guess I’ll just have to log a few more hours at the gym this week.
Three cheers for guilt! (And donuts!)
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