Confessions of a Gym Hater

My idea of exercise used to be jogging to the fridge during a commercial.  I considered mowing the lawn to be an excruciating workout.  The thought of going to a gym induced a heaving, snorting gaffaw.  I enjoyed my outdoor athletic activities, but why anyone would pay good money to induce self torture  at a gym was beyond my comprehension.  Long ago, I dismissed such nonsense.

Then, I got hurt! After 6 months of PT, I could finally walk without pain. My PT warned that if I didn’t continue to work the plan once discharged, my summer activities could cause re-injury. So I joined the nearest gym with the PT’s plan in hand determined to get my leg back to its former state.

  

Now, understand that I hate the gym.  I hate the mirrors, the noise, the constant news crawl of CNN, and the horrid smell of chlorinated water. I hate the wet floors in the locker room, and the pitter-patter of toddlers in swim diapers. (I refuse to allow myself to dwell on what takes place in those diapers, and I continue to avoid water exercise.) I intended to remain incognito by avoiding group classes and remaining reticent beneath my headphones.

The gym had a winter fitness challenge and the PT’s plan was boring me to tears.  There were prizes for meeting the challenges. Who doesn’t love prizes? So, I sucked it up, put down my incognito, and joined. Prize number one was an hour with a personal trainer.  The trainer had 60 minutes to impart as much knowledge as possible to a person who knows little about exercise and also hates it. Good luck! Fortunately, I was assigned to an awesome trainer my age with personal experience of dealing with injury. If a skinny, cheerleading, twenty-something in sparkly work out apparel had trotted out, I would have rolled my eyes and gone back to my boring plan. Not to be, as Jae’s logical, and mildly enthusiastic approach won me over. This person had knowledge I had never considered.  She got my attention. My eyes remained unrolled. 

I was so impressed that I signed up for more. Never in my wildest nightmares did I think I would pay someone to teach me how to do something I hate. I huff and puff and complain. I accuse her of trying to kill me. Unrattled by my allegations and whining, she keeps me moving while explaining it all in detail as we go.  With Jae, there is no “can’t do,” only  what I can do now, what I can do in the future if I don’t give up, and what I should never do because of my injury. My workouts are more interesting, challenging, and efficient. 

I always admired my ability to figure things out on my own. However, sometimes I get stuck.  My human nature compels me to dislike what I perceive I can't do or don't understand. Those distastes may protect me from failing and looking bad, and they don't necessarily contribute to personal growth. In walks the expert, and I had to make a conscious commitment to listen well and do all I could. In the end, her wealth of knowledge completely changed my point of view.  I just almost don’t hate it anymore.

5 miles of going nowhere on this bike

Moral of the story: 

Stuck? Call an expert and listen! 


Peace! lw