Breaking the Equipment

11-18-05

As if the pictures I posted on my last blog were not enough motivation for even the laziest person to get in shape, I must admit that it took more than one motivation for me to make this decision. It, in fact took many many motivations. Some were physical (not being able to breathe after picking up the ice cream cone from the picture in the previous post). Some were spiritual (when God calls our bodies temples, I no longer believe that he is talking about the Temple of Doom). However, one of the most important reasons was geographical. Our apartment complex has a pretty decent gym which we have free access to day and night. It is difficult to use the old "the gym is too far away" excuse when you can throw a rock from your balcony and break the window by the treadmill (although this was the exact excuse I used for the first few months). So, recently I took the dreaded walk over to the clubhouse and found the gym mercifully empty of people. I took a little while to acquaint myself with how each machine worked and mapped out the quickest route to the water fountain from each station. Overall, it was an enjoyable experience. I walked a little, I ran a very little (probably to the water fountain), I lifted a few weights, and I climbed a few stairs all while watching SportsCenter. Oh, what a glorious day. My radiant wife accompanied me on my next gym excursion and it was, again, a pleasant experience. This time we watched Sister Act (nothing is quite as motivating as Whoopi Goldberg in a habit(I have no idea what that last parenthetical statement meant)). Everything was good. It was on our third and fourth trip to the gym that a new wrinkle was introduced into my fledgling excersing life: other people. Nothing can ruin your workout faster than some physically fit specimen running their little heart out on the treadmill next to you. I have to admit that I wasn't so much worried about them seeing me make a fool out of myself with ridiculously small weights or jogging at a creepingly slow pace. If they want to watch me, go ahead. It's there nigthmares, not mine, right? No, what really gets me is that when someone comes into the room you instantly become aware of every noise that you or the machine you are on is making. I know that sounds weird but when the first guy came in I was suddenly cognizant of the fact that the bike I was on was wheezing only slightly louder than I was. It sounded like it was in pain. When the guy jumped on the treadmill to sprint for half an hour, his machine ran silent and smooth. When I get on a treadmill, beer-lovers everywhere come out to their patios to see if the Budweiser Clydesdales are making a promotional run through the complex. And that's just while I'm walking. While that workout was annoying, yesterday's was worse. Several people came and went, including one guy who was 1 1/2 times my size who proceeded to set some kind of land speed record on an eliptical trainer without so much as making a peep. But, he wasn't the worst. Soon a tiny middle-aged woman power-walked into the room straight to the treadmill and began to run at a crazy pace for a long time without breaking a sweat. Here she is sprinting with her mouth closed breathing through her nose like she's on a sedative while I'm on a stationery bike trying not gag on my own tongue pedaling at a pace that wouldn't have gotten me to the corner store by midnight. Needless to say I was perplexed and frustrated.
When I was finished with my ride I decided that I would do some weight training with my legs. I figured that, if anything, that would boost my confidence. Throughout my life, due to some insane genetic blessing I have maintained freakishly large calf muscles (one of my calfs would have fed half the Donner party for several days). So, I figured I should be able to lift a good amount of weight smoothly without much problem. I sat down on the machine and contorted my legs into some bizarre prison torture position and began to lift a fairly good amount of weight. My dreams of smooth lifting were quickly shattered when I realized that my legs were shaking so bad that it was causing the entire machine to rattle like a wooden roller coaster. Luckily at this point everyone had left except for Jacquie. If anyone else had been there they would have run over in order to either treat the machine for seizures or arrest the rogue jackhammer operator hiding in the corner. I guess my legs have gone a little soft, along with my arms, my belly, my chest, my neck, and after yesterday's workout, maybe even my brain. Why am I doing this to myself? Well, there it is. Me in the gym using machines with instructions I can't understand exercising muscles with names I can't pronounce all in the name of....whatever. Author's Note: Most of this blog entry is an exaggeration (although not much of one). The truth is I have found working out ot be exhilirating and occasionally enjoyable. It's just a lot more fun to tell it this way.