For a while now, I have avoided the gym on any consistent level, but this week, well you’d be impressed. All modesty aside, I’ve been slightly more consistent.
That’s right, I’m getting myself into some form of shape just in time for winter for some reason. I’m lifting weights and running. It’s a strange combination, but will come in handy if I need to move something heavy and then run away from something. As long as that something didn’t chase me too quickly and gave up rather easily. If I’m being chased by myself for example.
The reason I’ve avoided returning to the gym up to now, is that it’s…what’s the word…stupid. A small area, packed with really fit looking people and me. I tend to go in the mornings and wear old track pants and a t-shirt, I’ve just woken up so my eyes are red and barely open. In summary, I look like a normal human being first thing in the morning. That’s not how ‘gym people’ look. They look perky and upbeat, I suspect that these are the people who say, ‘Morning is the best part of the day,’ then have a protein shake and a good dose of morning yoga. I, on the other hand prefer coffee and the paper and feel that the morning is something to get through on the journey towards the preferable afternoon and evening. My favourite ‘gym people’ are the men who obviously spend just a little bit too much time at the gym. They eye up every other male who walks in the door and evaluate whether he has bigger arms, or broader shoulders, or a larger IQ. Scrub that last one. They also make a lot of noise when they’re lifting weights. I’m silent when I do it, but in saying that, they’re lifting weights the equivalent of small houses, mine are slightly heavier than my t-shirt.
Join me now, dear reader, in the cardio area (look at me using the language). The theory of the treadmill says that you take something from outside, attach a small TV to it and it makes it better. Great theory, the only flaw in it is me. You see, I have the coordination of a baby elephant trying to ride a unicycle. On a tightrope. Blindfolded. The offshoot of this is that, while I should be running and enjoying morning television, I am trying my best not to fall off the treadmill. I stare at my feet instead of the screen, my eyes wide open and panicked, sweat dripping from me, even though I’ve only been running twenty metres. When anyone moves around me it puts me off. So I slow down to a walk and eventually stop. It’s at this point that I realise that I’m just standing there watching TV. I could be doing this at home for goodness sake, and that guy over there wouldn’t be staring at me.
I would like to propose a gym for the unfit and/or uninterested. An anti-gym where those who are not fit enough to go to a gym can go. After you get in shape and start taking it seriously, wearing the gear and talking about it at work – ‘Yeah so I’m going to the gym tonight, got to get buff for summer.’ – You get your membership revoked and have to get a membership at a real gym. Also our gym has a coffee machine and a bar.
That’s the end of the class, everyone pick up their towels, wipe down the equipment and I’ll meet you at the pub.
