I LOVE going to the gym! When my kids were small, it was due in very large part to getting a little kid-free time. But now with all my kids in school all day, that is no longer a motivation. I've always really liked knowing that my body was strong and capable. And since I climb far fewer trees these days than I once did, a gym is the easiest way to accomplish that. I've seen how quickly a body can betray, and so while mine is still working well, I intend to work it!
A few months ago, I let my membership at a local rec center lapse. It's the gym I've used for years, but it was no longer meeting my needs. I intended to just focus on my half marathon training on the roads and trails and combine that with push-ups and other things I could do here at home.
But then a swanky new gym opened in the downtown of my cute and adorable little town. It took over the old hardware store and is that perfect combination of raw old brick walls, distressed but gleaming old wood floor, and lots of dark metal. It's opening happened to coincide with my decision to get back into weight lifting again. (I don't think I've really focused on lifting since before I had my daughter. She's six now.)
I love my swanky new gym! It's a 24 hour facility and doesn't always have staff there, so the other day I used my key card to get in only to discover the whole building dark and empty! This, btw, is one of my definitions of heaven. A whole gym, completely tricked out, and all to myself!!
I then spent the next 10 minutes mentally writing a book involving the murder of a woman who is all alone in a swanky new 24 gym. All this while lacing up my sneakers, picking out my treadmill, programming it, queuing up my running playlist on my iPod, and just settling in.
On the TV screen in front of my treadmill they were showing some sort of championship basketball game for high schools. Basketball is the one sport I don't mind watching. And it was a NJ high school playing against an Indiana high school in a very close game.
I was all alone, so I cheered loudly at every basket the NJ team made. I booed out loud at missed or lousy calls against the NJ team all while running with my ear buds in.
It was after one particularly hard-won basket, I threw my arms up in the air and yelled "YES!" for the NJ team, and noticed an older gentleman had come up the stairs at some point and was exactly in my blind spot.
See?? Total potential for a murder mystery! I have no idea how long he'd been there, but he was clearly amused at my enthusiasm for high school basketball.
I finished up my miles on the treadmill and then moved over to do my first arm work out with the weights in a reeeeaaaaally long time. So long, in fact, that when I attempted to put my previous lifting weight on the barbell for chest presses, I was....um....overly optimistic. So much so, that I could not lift the bar back up and had to slither out from under it, off the bench, and on to the floor.
A friend of mine once commented that I reminded him a little of Lucille Ball from "I Love Lucy". At the time I bristled a little at the comparison. But as I've thought of some of the stories I've told him from my life over the years, it's fairly apt. Anyway, as I was slithering out from the bar none too gracefully, that's all I could think of.
The guy at the gym was nice enough to pretend he didn't see me make a fool of myself that time. I managed to finish up my workout without any further shenanigans, thank goodness.
I'm happy to report that my subsequent visits to the gym have yielded no such stories and have simply been boring.
Not so good for anecdotes, but much better for my ego.