The average person’s New Year’s Resolutions will be abandoned by Jan 19th. By the time this blog post comes out, most gym memberships have been cancelled, gym bags are collecting dust, and the Lululemon compression pants bought with Christmas gift cards have turned into pyjamas that makes a person’s butt look more toned than it actually is.
In my mid-20s, I was surprised to discover that working out - especially doing intense workouts like bootcamps - makes me really happy. This was quite shocking because all my life I was a weakling, uncoordinated drama nerd. I was so bad at sports that the only reason my high school gym teacher wanted me to join the cheerleading squad was because I’m “loud and enunciate really well”. I’m proud to say that my fitness resolutions have always made it past 19 days; however, I still have a very complicated on-again/off-again relationship with fitness.
Fitness and I tend to make it to the three month mark aka “The Honeymoon Phase” of our relationship. By the Honeymoon Phase, we start drifting apart because something always happens. We have different goals, opposing schedules, there’s someone else getting in the way (of the equipment I want to us), etc., etc.
And on Jan 1st, 2020, I found myself starting this process all over again. In the six weeks prior to New Year’s, I had a stomach flu, a sinus infection, and a cold that derailed my fitness plans. I did the ceremonial print-out of my meal and workout plans, but the enthusiasm and determination I used to have when I would start back up again wasn’t there. I stared at the weekly diet of egg whites and sweet potatoes, and the disgusting amount of
bicycle crunches I had to do and thought, “Why bother?” I had done this so many times before, and nothing ever worked. Why bother? Is it even worth trying again?
For instance, how was I going to find the time to work out in the first place? Sure working out is easy when you have a fixed schedule, but what about the times when you’re dealing with a crisis at work, or your microwave explodes, or it’s so cold outside yetis are roaming the streets? Due to my job, working out at 5 AM is actually much better for me, but no matter how determined I am the night before, the minute the alarm goes off I turn into a screaming 4-year-old who’s just been told they have to leave the McDonald’s Play Place and head off to Grandma’s. All I can think of is, “I don’t wanna go!” The thought of leaving my warm bed and enduring five seconds of cold air before I put my housecoat on is too much to bear. So, I hit the snooze button and by the seventh time I hit the snooze button, sure enough, I don't have time to work out and need to get ready for work.
What about the underwear situation? Ya know, fretting about whether or not to wear something that’s comfortable but the panty lines are so visible I look like a superhero wearing underwear over their tights? And do I want to deal with sports bras that are so sturdy it’s like my chest has been vacuum sealed?
If you go to the gym, you’re faced with the arduous task of trying to find a Skrillex-free workout playlist on Spotify. Don’t be fooled when the playlist says hip-hop or indie rock. Chances are he’ll pop up on it.
Then, they are the gym rats. Do I want to deal with people at the gym? Getting pointers from the super fit 62-year-old next to me is a wee bit intimidating. (After getting back up on the horse so often, you’d think that I’d remember how to do basic moves like push-ups, squats, and crunches, but I always end up as the uncoordinated, gawky girl from gym class). No matter what time of day I go, the machines I need tend to be in use, and if I do find one that’s available, it’s usually next to a grunting guy with horrific b.o.. Also, I’m not particularly a fan of the super loose, nipple exposing muscle tanks some men wear.
And most importantly, do I want to deal with constantly comparing myself to other women at the gym? No matter how accomplished I feel on my workout, I always find myself noticing the gazelle on a treadmill nearby who seems to have the perfect combination of a feminine hourglass figure that’s also muscular but not too muscular, is lean without being too thin, and they’re tall but not too tall. I basically notice all the women at the gym who look like Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman. It’s a miracle I haven’t fallen off the treadmill when I’ve stopped mid-run to enviously glare at these beauties.
I’ve begun my fitness journey many, many times, and it’s been so long and harrowing, it’s starting to feel more like a Lord of the Rings style quest than simply trying to tone up; however, this time around I think it will be different. I think.
In 2019, I was very fortunate to speak with some incredibly inspirational people. I met a retired police officer who broke almost every bone in his body when he was pushed out of a window during an attack. With a lot of patience and persistence, he made a full-recovery and he’s in the best physical shape of his life. I also got to speak with a man who survived being lost for three days on the Appalachian Trail during a severe snowstorm. He was so cold, he could barely dial 9-1-1. But he survived and went back out to finish the hike one month later.
So, I’m going to shut up and stop whining about how hard it is to be cold for five seconds and the difficulties of selecting underwear. At least it’s five seconds and not five days, and at least the underwear is fresh and warm. And, yes, having senior citizens correct my form isn’t my cup of tea, but at least my body isn’t broken.
Things could be a lot worse. Working out - even if it’s your 342nd attempt at it - is doable and isn’t that bad after all; however, the grunting at the gym is still terrible. The grunting needs to stop.
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