Me Against the Gym

August 28th, 2006 • Related • Filed Under

The last you heard, I was ecstatic at the results of my latest diet. Let me tell you a little secret. The reason I’m an ardent supporter of diets is because I really hate the gym. I always have and it doesn’t seem to be changing anytime soon.

I started being a gym bunny in 2002. I had started out gung-ho and made a decision to workout 5 times a week. I was studying at the University of Bristol, UK which was blessed with a top facility gym. Luckily, my best friend at university was a gym freak too and together we used to trek 15 minutes every morning. Let me give you some geography facts about Bristol. It is in the UK, which means we had freak weather conditions. The next is looked outside my window and the strthat it’s hilly so that 15 minutes to and fro made it a workout on its own. I knew I was at the height of my gym craziness when I attempted what nobody would imagine. It had snowed the day before. Traffic was at a standstill and everyone was stranded as the ice on the streets made walking almost impossible. I had woken up at 7am the next morning as usual. Ieet was eerily still. Where I would normally see people rushing to get to work or school was instead replaced with white rooftops and icy roads. I refused to let this stop my gym routine. I bundled myself up in layers on top of my workout gear, gloves and scarf and started walking down the slippery street. After a couple of steps I started thinking that maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Determined to burn off last night’s calories though, I kept walking. When I reached the first downhill slope, I slipped. I landed smack on the ice and because it was so slippery, I couldn’t get up. Somebody came to help me and by holding on to each other, I managed to get back up. Seeing as to how I had barely made it down my street and there was no way I was going to get to the gym, I went back home. Walking back into my warm apartment with my bottom sore and bruised, I saw the gym as my enemy.

The gym being a university gym, was filled with fit young women. Dressed in my Giordanos and running awkwardly, I looked far from elegant. As the treadmill was placed behind the other cardio machines and was also the only machine I could stomach, I had to run looking at pert bottoms and bouncy ponytails on the cross trainers in front. It was excruciating but I convinced myself that was what I was running to. As you can guess, I ran and ran but I never got there!

When I got back to KL, I made myself join a gym and engage a personal trainer. My trainer, Wan deserves a prize for having dealt with me. The plan was to see him twice a week and fit in two other classes or workouts on my own. That was a task for me. I would plan my classes the day before. On the day itself, I’d convince myself that if I didn’t eat that day, missing the gym wouldn’t count. Surviving hunger pangs was far more bearable than the panting, sweating and body aches that accompany a workout. By the way, yes, I have heard about the release of endorphins making me feel better, I don’t buy it.

Wan, my trainer laughs at me every time he sees me dragging my feet into the gym for our appointments. He looks at me and cheerfully asks “Treadmill?” To which I would retort, “You mean the Dreadmill.” After my cardio, during which I reinstate how much I hate exercising and blatantly lie about how much chocolate I had actually eaten the day before, he proceeds to weight training. Now, if I can specifically point out what I hate most about working out; it’s weights.

While he goes through the squats, lunges and the other technical terms for pain, I grunt, groan and whine. These strange noises are punctuated with name-calling like “Drill Sergeant,” Torture King” and “Sadist.” He also makes me do 20 reps of each exercise and at the 8th, by which time my face would be bright red, he’d say “Nearly there.” I’d look at him with daggers in my eyes before screaming out “Are you crazy? It’s not nearly there!” The poor guy still manages to smile though I wonder if he secretly imagines me being knocked out by the weights I’m lifting. Once the weights are done and I’ve somehow miraculously even survived the crunches, he says the magic word. “Stretch” The moment I hear that single, glorious word, I revert to being a human again. My heart stops pounding, my brain starts

functioning and I even smile. I finish up quickly, shower and get out of the gym at lightning speed. The moment I step out of Menara Maxis, I feel a kind of pride and safety that those escaping front line battles would feel.My battle with the gym is in its 4th year now. Unlike what everybody claims, it is not getting easier. The only reason I’ve made it this far is because the work does pay off. Being a chocoholic, the gym is the only thing that has kept me from ballooning. I will never be a person who enjoys working out. But 20 years from now, I’d still be doing it. I’ll settle knowing that it is a pain that undoubtedly provides me with results. The next time you feel like you’re fighting a lone battle against the gym, remember, there’re many more of us charging on with you.

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