Longtime readers of this blog (who am I kidding here?) may remember my previous attempts to join a gym and commence a healthier lifestyle. The result of the experiment was that when exercising solo, my motivation leaves a great deal to be desired.
Fast forward several years and I find myself in the uncomfortable position of being able to join a gym very close to my workplace once again. Unfortunately, that gym happens to be Fitness First, for which I have heard unflattering things, mainly pertaining to their reluctance to let you go after you decide you no longer want to continue with them. That aside (and because they happen to be across the street from work), I’ll give them a try for a month and see what the results are like.
They asked us today, during the discussion about the fitness program to use, how we would rate ourselves in terms of fitness currently, on a scale of one to ten. I can honestly answer that my current rating would be two or three, but I have willingness to get in shape again, and that is what counts.
More gym based tales to follow. Hopefully I won’t regret this.
I debated whether to walk the mile and a half or so to the gym, but realized the futility of arriving at my destination for some exercise after having completed by daily hour or so of exercise in arriving there. Upon arriving at the gym, one is intimidated by the lack of any actual overweight inhabitants. It seem all the members of the club are toned and fit and visit the gym religiously only to maintain this state. Odder still are the variety of contraptions on display, silently staring at you as if daring you to figure out what on earth they are for and why one would straddle/hang from/sit/lie upon them at all.
I moved towards the time honored choice for the newbie: the treadmill, and found one blessedly unoccupied and quickly started it up and started my brisk walk. In the meantime, attracting the eye was a lady of modest bulk laying upon the floor on her back, her legs going through the motions of peddling imaginary bicycle pedals in the air whilst she lays, somewhat ironically one machine away from an exercise cycle which would have allowed her the benefits of the same exercise in a considerably less odd position. Another odd inmate in the duration of my stay was a lady who constantly stared at her own arse in the multiple mirrors while jogging violently on the treadmill, as if to shrink it by sheer force of will. I never understood the point of covering each and every wall in a gym with mirrors. I would assume people visit a gym because they don’t really like the way they look and want to do something about it. Why cruelly remind them at every turn of their appearance and cause them to gaze, in some fascination, at what they look like from every angle while using a treadmill?
I looked upon one such mirror only to discover, in horror, that my rear had apparently grown to double its size (quite the sight) in the twenty minutes of exercise rather than shrinking, only to discover, to my relief, that it was a combination of two mirrors displaying half of my visage each and overlapping considerably that created that illusion and nearly scared me half to death.
This time, thankfully, it has been several hours and no sign of kneelessness. Huzzah!
Lost: 200 calories, use of knees.
After much deliberation, I decided to start going to the gym again. Bad idea, since I generally tend to overdo things on my first day. Ended up cycling vigorously for half and hour while listening, and mentally growling along, to metallica. As if this wasn’t sufficient, I ended my session half an hour later with twenty minutes of very fast walking on the treadmill. One thing that can be said in favor of lust is that it helps to drive one forward on an exercise routine. Unfortunately, all the excitement proved a bit much for poor knees, which have caved almost completely immediately thereafter. I am currently engaged in shuffling back and forth across the room groaning and trying to move knee joins as little as possible while walking and sipping on cool soft drinks to soothe self, which defeats the purpose of working out in the first place.
Later, was saddened to discover Lahore trip for next weekend appears to be off. One of the concerned parties has been tragically buried in work issues. Sad, I was looking forward to visiting since it’s been near nine years since I last went. Ah well.
On the brighter side, have purchased PDA from a notorious character on worldcall forums and was plagued the rest of the day by fellow WC-ers asking me if it was really true and that I had conducted a trade with the creature in question in person. The celly purchased, for the fellow gadgetoholics who may be reading this, was a Motorola e680. I’ve always wanted a touch screen and I’m not afraid to say it, regardless of what friends indicate that statement means taken in a Freudian sense.
Also, am just about to conclude my reading of “Wuthering Heights” and have downloaded 1939 film adaptation to watch. Lawrence Olivier and painful knees are in the cards for tonight.