So I joined a gym this weekend. Probably should have done it
What sent me to the gym was my recent trip to Seattle. I had parked on 4th but I needed to be on 5th, so I walked up James St. When I got to the top I thought my legs had turned to rubber and I was sucking down wind like a 40 year smoker after a jaunt out to the mailbox. In all fairness though, I was in boots with 4 inch heels and James St. has an almost 20% slope between 4th and 5th. It's one of the roads they send Jim Forman to when it snows because they know all of Seattle will tune in, hoping to see him flattened by a car spinning out of control down the hill.
Putting aside fantasies of a flattened Forman I knew it was time to quit talking about joining a gym and to actually do it. So I did. Yeah...let me tell you how today went.
I am going to skim right over the 2 hours I spent rummaging through my closet and dresser trying to find appropriate gym clothes. I made it to the gym after I finally found something that didn't have grass stains, or paint spots, or bits of dried concrete hanging from the cuffs. It was much busier then when we were there yesterday. My fear of crowds and unknown environments kicked in big time. My heart rate was at peak levels and I had only walked through the door.
"You can do this." the voice in head kept saying. "You can do this. Find a treadmill like yesterday and just start walking."
Instead I veered off to the stretching station, sat down to put my head between my knees, Pretending to stretch so I could regroup and plan how to gracefully exit the gym.
"You are NOT leaving. Really? You're a grown adult, you can do this. It's okay if you don't know what you're doing. You're not going to look silly and is it the end of the world if you do?" My inner voice was not going to let me leave without a fight. So I caved. I quit "stretching" and headed back to the line of treadmills which had just been vacated. I guess I had come at the end of a peak time of day.
As I started the machine I saw a guy in his seventies clinb onto a treadmill a few machines away. "See, it's easy. Look at that old guy coming to the gym, doing his work out. Don't you want to be fit and active like him when you're 70?" My inner voice was now smug and annoying.
Five minutes later, old guy starts running. "Okay, yeah you should probably set the incline up a few more notches and speed things up. Not going to do yourself any good if you don't push yourself."
Seven minutes later, old guy is still running and I am putting the incline back down 5. "Now that I really look at him, he can't be any more than 60." my inner voice says, some of the smuggness leaking away.
Four minutes later, older guy is back to a fast walk and I am thinking about kicking up the incline and speed again. I will show James St. who's the boss.
Five minutes later, old-ish guy starts running again. I am putting the incline back down and trying to figure out if 170 beats per minutes is okay or too much. "When you think about it, he's probably in his mid to late forties and just shaves his head everyday." All smugness is now gone from the inner voice.
Ten minutes later, I am a few minutes into my latest 'hill climb' and the guy on the other treadmill is just slowing down after setting what had to be a new treadmill speed record. "I bet you he's in his thirties and just looks older because he's one of those outdoorsy types. His doctor probably told him to stay out of sun for his skin and that's why he's here." My inner voice has retreated to a corner and is speaking in hushed wonder.
Nine minutes later, I am wiping down my machine and getting ready to leave. I am waiting for the slight wobble in my legs to settle down before I can cross the length of gym to retreive my car keys.
As I left the gym that 20 year old punk was still running like the wind on his treadmill.
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