In my week of NO GYM, I’ve been reminiscing what I love about the gym.
- The ice machine. When I first visited the community centre and saw they had a machine that distributed little ice pebbles for my water bottle?? SOLD! Makes my day every single time.
- The Eastern European. This guy I love. He is like a horse out of the gate at the Kentucky Derby when it comes to getting in the front door of the gym at 0600 hrs, clothes off and under the waterfall in the children’s pool by 0602 hrs. Then he stands/lays beneath the falls for a good 40 minutes getting a free water massage treatment. Lately, a little round Chinese lady has been his competition. When she arrives second, she gets on a pink turtle floatie and lurks about until he acknowledges her presence and shares the space.
- Fitness classes. I’m too cheap to pony up for fitness classes, so having a whole bunch of them included in my membership is pretty cool. So far I’ve tried Rock Bottoms and Yoga. On my list is Bollyrobics and other cardio/strength ones that I know will kick my ass. Fitness classes are tricky because there is pride involved. Keeping up. Doing it to the bitter end.
- Edmonton Eskimos. Hooked up to the Commonwealth Stadium, us village folk often work out alongside athletes. Former Esk Gizmo Williams does personal training in the gym all the time and now and then I catch snippets of advice. My favourite from last week was him speaking to a player on the treadmill. “I do your workout three times a week. It never gets any easier, but I keep doing it.” And this guy is uber fit. Who knew?
- The anonymity. The complex is large enough that I can wander from cardio machines, to classes, to the track, to the weight room, to the courts, etc and never really be noticed. It’s cool to just be in my own bubble and work out. And I like that other people are the same – doing cool stuff. Getting fit.
In the mean time, it has been a rough week. Food wise, I’ve stumbled a bit and have been drinking milk, eating more bread than usual and just sucking back the cheese.
And I just had a text from my husband saying he’s ordering pizza, and would I like a tropical Hawaiian? Freeze frame: I had a choice….1) decline politely and eat dust when I arrive home while everyone else hoovers in pizza 2) graciously accept his kind gesture to “make” dinner and then just eat one piece.
Choice #1 would have been ideal. I chose door #2 with all knowledge that I cannot eat just one piece. Lady, tiger…? We’ll see. I still have to get home…