I’m not afraid to admit that since starting university, I’ve been one of those gym people. You know, the annoying ones who are actually eager to go to the gym, and seem to spend hours there without getting bored.
Of course, in university, it helped that we had a bouldering cave at the gym, which kept me entertained longer than a normal gym would. In fact, part of the entertainment stemmed from the beefcakes from the adjoining weight-lifting area who would wander in to try their hand at climbing. You know the type – I’m talking about the guys with trunks for legs, shoulder muscles bulging up to their ears, and no neck to speak of. The guys who couldn’t comprehend how a girl half their size (no, not talking about me here) could crawl around near the ceiling like a spider, whereas they had trouble hanging on to the holds their hands were too big to grasp. Because, I mean, they’d been working out – how could a little girl with no muscles to speak of do this better than they? Ah, the climbing days…
But I digress. I used to like going to the gym. No, I used to love going to the gym, and didn’t need to have a specific reason or plan for what I would do there. For nearly 3 years now, I’ve been going to a class at the gym right here at work, with a fantastic instructor and a wonderful group of other participants. Except that I’ve been feeling like something has been missing recently.
There, I said it. I realize the immense benefit of this class, but lately I’ve had more days when I’m dragging my unwilling butt in there instead of skipping gleefully in. It’s not your regular gym class in the sense that the workouts are always different, but still it’s been feeling like too much of the same. Something had to give.
That something turned into my decision not to sign up for the class next term. Instead, I’m going to try my hand at the morning classes which come free with my membership at the gym, and hopefully even start biking to work when the temperatures are more Maria-friendly. Dan has me seriously looking at getting a bike this spring, so that should help out on the “exercise but not in a gym” front.
If all goes to plan, between biking to work at least twice a week, morning gym classes twice a week, three nights of ultimate, the occasional canoe trip and the occasional weekend ride with Dan and Chris, summer should keep me in reasonable shape. And by the fall, if the past is any indication, I will be back to gleefully skipping into Gillian’s class.
The poor lonely bus stop on Katimavik.
