I know it is January and everyone’s fulfilling their resolutions but holy fuck there were a ton of fit people clogging up the gym. I mean, I really had expected to see some more plump, round folks like myself putting around, pretending like we weren’t go to dive into a beer or six tonight. But I am not blogging about wow, how fun was it to be one of the fattest people in the gym today. No, I am blogging because today was my FIRST EVER experience with working out at a real gym.
So I meet up with Pretty in Pink and she signs us in. Then she shows me the Women’s Locker Room so we can put our keys, etc somewhere safe. So far so good, I might even have some fun. Then she asks me where I want to start. I guess she caught on pretty fast that I hadn’t the slightest fuckin clue, might have been the deer in the headlights expression that I am certain I wore all morning, so she gives me the full tour.
I’m glad there wasn’t a test because beyond the treadmill I can’t tell you what the name of any of those medieval torture devices were called. They ALL looked scary and I started to miss Boot Camp Babe and her cray cray wall sits, burpees and bear crawl torture. Pretty in Pink points at some wiggly hanging bar over a chair without a back and says with a giant smile, “this one’s my favorite.” I think I smiled and nodded. I’m pretty sure I was in shock. I was certain I wasn’t going to fall in love with her favorite.
She tells me that she usually starts on the the treadmill. I think I can handle this so I nod enthusiastically and speak up, “that sounds good.” Until I step on the most futuristic looking walking machine on the planet. What are all these fucking buttons for??? I think the deer in the headlights look returned because bless her heart my friend stops her machine, steps off and helps me get mine started.
Now I can get in a zone on a treadmill. The runners’ high that I have missed for months and months came right back the moment I finished my warm up and started to find my pace, pushing past the burn in my legs. We get about twenty minutes in and I hear a voice that seems far away say,”How long would you like to do the treadmill for?” Oh damn, I could do this for an hour or two. Um, um, uhhhh, quick, reply to her before she thinks you know no words! “Whatever you want to do is good.” Ugh. I bet she doesn’t want to stay here the whole time.
“Ok, how about 5 more minutes and then we’ll do the cool down and go do something else.” Ok, maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe we’ll go use those other machines, I think they’re called ellipticals? Those don’t look so bad. I run a little more, hit the cool down button and then when the machine stops I grab a towel and a spray down my machine. I make the mistake of saying,”Let’s do whatever you normally do.”
We spent the next thirty minutes going from room to room, treacherous machine to treacherous machine. I’m pretty sure I did things wrong. I’m pretty sure I had NEWBIE flashing on my forehead like a neon Hot Donuts Now sign at Krispy Kreme. And at the end of it all? She invited me back Monday...and I must enjoy pain and humiliation because I agreed. All’s I’ve got to say is this: if Bear ever decides to finally propose, I better damn well look fucking amazing in my wedding dress.
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