The Gym & I : Part III

I have now completed week 6 of my going to the gym experiment. Much to my chagrin, I have not transformed myself into the Sports Illustrated swimsuit model I had hoped to magically morph into. I was a little disappointed to learn that one of the main reasons women in their 30s and 40s should work out is not so much to make themselves look better, as it is to "maintain." This was a bummer for me. I can't believe I have to get up at the crack of dawn, force myself to sweat, and use machines that slightly resemble medieval torture devices in order to "maintain" the slumped over, poochy, I've had 4 kids figure that I currently rock and try to camouflage with deceptively flattering wardrobe choices. However, I must admit I have become all the more inspired and stubborn in my pursuit of self-improvement as I observe the die hards around me.

I've learned that the gym is not a conversation-friendly place. Most people around me have headphones on and look deep in thought as they run, sweat, and grimace their way through their workouts. So although, I don't really speak to anyone, I have watched, and I must say, I am truly impressed by the regulars that seem to be there each time I go. So here's my shout out to them.

First to YELLOW SHORTS GUY, I'd like to say, that despite the fact that your shorts are only a shade more flourescent than your legs, I applaud your consistency. YELLOW SHORTS GUY not only consistently wears the same bright and cheery shorts, but he consistently pounds it out on the treadmill. I also would like to mention that I'm guessing YSG is somewhere in his mid 70s which makes his efforts extremely impressive and inspiring to me. If he can do it, surely, I can to. (Though, you won't see me doing anything in yellow thanks, it's never been my color).

Secondly, there's the TERMINATOR CHICK. She's got dyed red hair that she wears pulled straight back, and muscles for days. She reminds me of Linda Hamilton, thus the nickname. Truthfully, I'm a little afraid of her, but doggonit, if she doesn't look good. Watching her work out is like watching seniors wave to you from the Homecoming parade when you're nothing but a lowly freshman, hoping to get your locker open. She's that cool.

And thirdly, there's my new work out buddy, MISS AMY from church. Now I've known MISS AMY for almost a decade, and I've always known she was strong and athletic and stuff, the kind of girl that thinks playing softball at picnics is fun. But seeing her in action at the gym has brought me to a whole new level of respect for her. Not only is she about 25 times stronger than me, but she's patient enough to have been helping me ever since my trainer sessions ran out a few weeks ago. She makes me try scary things, though I did flat out refuse when she balanced on a half dome squeezy thing while doing squats with dumbells. We all have our limits after all.

And so my going to the gym experiment continues. But don't worry, I haven't changed that much, I just ate enough Whoppers to feed a small village in a third-world country. I mean, come on, not all of us can be Linda Hamilton you know.