As my waistline shrinks my available wardrobe of pants expands. This is good news, as winter has arrived, there is snow on the ground, and it’s too cold to walk to work in A-line cotton skirts, no matter how much I may love them.
Last night I went to a new gym for the first time. I have, and will keep, a membership at the community recreation center near my house, because I fucking love doing step aerobics to this song, but I’m finding that the classes are not as challenging as they once were. I would like to learn to strength train properly, so I went to a pretty hardcore gym. The girl (girl!) next to me squatted 215 pounds while, at the exact same time, the trainer criticized my form as I did a single, simple body-weight squat. I also failed miserably at the chin-up test (I can do exactly zero), came in “below average” at sit-ups per minute and became mildly delirious after doing the cardio assessment (riding some sort of inhumane bicycle-armcycle combination thing). It really showed me how little my community gym pushes me, as I’m easily the best person in pretty much every class I take, and easily the worst person (by far) at this gym. Perhaps the best part of the experience was realizing the horrible bicycle thing had winded me so much that it dislodged some decades-old mucus from the depths of my lungs; I spent the evening coughing so loudly that my next-door neighbour, who speaks zero English and only Farsi, came over to check on me and then tried to tell me that I had made myself sick by not wearing a coat outside. No, lady, I made myself sick by riding the Bicycle from Hell! (I’m not sure I was able to get that point across well using only body language, sadly.)
My goal is to do as few personal training sessions as possible at this new gym, so that I can learn to lift weights properly and safely and then hit the weight floor at my home gym. In the process I hope to reach my goals of climbing up a big hill without dying (see photo above… that canyon almost killed me once!), being able to do a 25-lb bicep curl (I’m the only person in my family who exercises and the only person who can’t curl that much weight… what’s up with that?) and, assuming these things are not mutually exclusive, finally looking like an underfed Eastern European pop star. Like this lady.