First Visit to a Gym

Posted in Quick by Sandra on July 8, 2009

Gyms scare me, period.

I remember standing outside one of my mum’s gyms while she enquired about some programme she wanted to attend when I was 14 or so and thinking, “I’ll never even step into a gym, ever!”

Well, sure ate my words today… And walked 3.08km (courtesy of e71’s “Sport Tracker” app) to do so.

Today was supposed to be the day that I and the gym were formally introduced. Someone would take me around and show me how to use the various equipment so that I won’t break a bone or tear a tendon. At least, that was the plan.

Then the BF had to go do a job at 6pm, which meant I needed to either:

  1. Hitch a Ride
  2. Brave the Public Transport
  3. Walk. Alot.

To get there. As it turned out, I walked. In the cold biting winds that blew across the land, against the blinding headlights of oncoming cars (since I chose to walk on the opposite side) and against my better judgement.

33.56 minutes later, I finally arrived, looking very much out of place in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, a hoodie and a scarf… and already flushed from the walk. Luckily I did not wear the multi-coloured hat-with-flaps that would’ve marked me as an absolute, unsalvageable FOBber.

Like this, except adult-sized. And in much, much brighter colours.
Like this, except adult-sized. And in much, much brighter colours.

I got a locker key, I stowed my stuff, I changed, and then I went up to the front desk and asked about the lady I was supposed to meet. She was standing right next to me. An Asian lady, a whole head (and some) shorter than me and who looked my auntie’s age – about 45 or so. And much confusion ensued when she said that she’d informed some other staff member that she had to go off at 7pm that evening because she had another class down the road at 7.30pm.

Can you say, OH MY GOD PANIC!!!!!!

What am I doing there? Should I just change, pack up and leave????

Oh no, the staff brightly said. There’s a dance aerobic class at 7.30pm that I could stay around and have fun in!

Dubious, but willing to give it a turn since I’ve walked all the way there and didn’t really want to walk back, I agreed with much good humour.

The staff rescheduled me for Thursday at 3pm, and we tried to find a time for the BF, and eventually we decided that he should arrange it himself.

I wandered off to the ladies-only area.

There were bicycles, presses, weights, treadmills, some weird inverse bicycle where you sorta lay on an incline and pedal, as well as a machine that I can only describe as a stepper. It has handles for you to hang onto for dear life, and these great big flats which I could only assume to place my feet upon.

At first, I walked on the threadmill, for about 10 minutes… and I got bored. Nervously I wandered back to the locker, smsed the BF, gathered my courage and approached one of the stepper-thingies. It was great fun until my body seemed to think that my arms were controlling my legs and my legs thought that I was insane for wanting to do this on the spot activity. And since it was about 7.40pm anyway I decided to be brave and go ask the staff where the class for the dance aerobics was being held.

Turns out I was the only person attending it.

It was great, great fun though. I never realized how chunky my legs were until I looked at myself in those mirrors and crrrrrrriiiinnnnngggeeeddddd. Fuck I wish I hadn’t been such an avid basketballer. But we had fun, and it felt like a personal class for an activity meant for a bunch of people. I stretched like never before, I flounced with two left feet, and I saw for my own two eyes… How bad my limbs coordinated with each other. The music was suitably poppy with a great rhythm (and if you actually listened to the lyrics, some of them were pretty dirty too) and the instructor laughed plenty. I began to get a stitch from all the twirls and jumps and skips and twisting I was doing.

Man, that’s the most amount of exercise I’ve done in years.

Except that I wished sorely for a friend.

The class ended, and I went to walk on the threadmill to cool down for about 10 minutes while waiting for the BF to show up and ferry me home.

While he was rescheduling his “Welcome to the Gym” tour, the topic of girls and guys came up. Specifically, which sex was better for oogling. The staff said I should’ve been a lesbian. I totally agreed.

Then I semi-ruined the night of healthiness with a vegetarian lasagna for dinner. And I still have oreos for tomorrow… :)

What can I say? It must be PMS!

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