My New Year’s resolutions for 2010 included the following item:
Ride 25 miles per week on bike at gym
I do not share this philosophy, partly because I hate taking medication and cannot even count on myself to remember to take a daily multivitamin. I would speechify about how I prefer to avoid health problems through fitness and diet but too many people (including my coworkers) know all about my sweet tooth and my chocolate addiction. I try to offset my bad food habits with fitness.
Gyms can be interesting places. My old gym was conveniently located and affordable – a mere $20 a month for a full-time membership which included full access to classes the weight room and cardio equipment any time the place was open. When I started working full-time, it was even on my flight path and I would go after work and sometimes even on my lunch hour. The guilt of passing by the place or sitting in traffic trying to ignore it was a powerful motivator to go. In addition to the many fitness benefits, the place also provided a front row view of behavior that assumed an aspect not unlike a soap opera.
The behavior I refer to was sometimes delivered directly at my feet. I’d be minding my own business and suddenly some dude would be standing in front of me saying, “Hey, you got a boyfriend or a husband?” My “Yes,” which to me indicated I was not available for anything more than idle chit-chat, usually got them even more interested. The next comment, heard more than once, totally floored me the first time. “Cool. So you wanna hook up?” Uh, that would be a NO! Seriously, did that really work? Did any woman ever respond with “Sure, let’s book one of the private tanning rooms and make out right now!” Is that how things work here in the Bible Belt? (Or just at this gym?)
Over the years of my membership (until the place suddenly closed) I watched from my perch on the treadmill or bike, as the same dudes approached girls with regularity. One guy, after chatting with a series of other females there that day, came up to me to say he heard I was a dancer. When I said I had danced ballet, he walked away with a saddened look. Apparently, he was on the hunt for a stripper. (Maybe the mindset there was affected by its location next door to Hooters?) Whatever. It was clear he wasn’t going to waste his time chatting to a ballerina when there might be strippers on site, which was quite fine by me.
But let’s get back to the present.
My new gym is completely different. Nobody invites me to engage in extracurricular relationship activities or even speaks to me there, except for one British lady I chat with in the hallway while we wait for yoga class to start on Saturdays. It’s more expensive, so $25 a month gets me a weekend-only membership good for Fridays after 4:00 through closing time on Sunday. I scaled back from the much pricier full-time membership after the first year when a few months had passed and I hadn’t gone there once during the week, Of course, scarcity breeds desire, and now that I can’t go Monday through Thursday, guess which nights I am free and thinking about the gym? Yeah, you got it.
In any case, my fitness resolution includes riding more mileage because my legs are turning to jelly, but that is probably too much info. Since the year started, I have been to the gym twice – to change out my photography show in the hallway (non workout) and to one yoga class. I haven’t even gone near the bikes.
All day Friday I had every intention of going to the gym after work, but instead, opted to move two bookcases up from the basement, audition them in three different spots in two different rooms and then move one back downstairs again when it didn’t fit anywhere. I also moved some small tables in a feeble attempt to make them more usable and clear a path in the basement for the furnace and duct system installation taking place beginning Monday. (An expensive story for another day.) Then I blew off Saturday’s yoga class for reasons I can’t even recall just one day later. I considered going at night after Wade had gone to work, but instead, I spent six hours parked on the couch playing a game on xbox. You read that correctly - six hours. THAT’s some resolve for ya. Sheesh.
Maybe I should have resolved to NOT work out. Since I made my declaration, the opposite seems to have happened and I’ve been there less than usual. Even now, it’s Sunday, a gym-available day, but the place doesn’t open until noon, by which time I’ll be thinking about other things including lunch. It happens every Sunday – I spend all morning waiting for the place to open, and by the time it does (four hours later) I am on to something else.