What’s Next?

Today I learned what people sometimes call a “valuable lesson.”

For months now I’ve been doing my best to lose weight and become more healthy through, what can best be described as, shot in the dark fitness.  I’m a big believer in the idea that what works for one person may not work for another, so I read a lot, experiment more and adjust my thinking all the time, trying to figure out what works for me.  It’s all a guessing game and the one and only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know much of anything.  It’s not all bad news, of course… I mean, on the food front, I feel like I’m getting better all the time.  Even though I am by no means perfect, I’ve discovered some truths about myself and my body over the last several months and I know I’m far closer to understanding myself as an eater than I ever was before.

The exercise component of this equation, however, still remains a bit of a mystery.

Before deciding that it was time to take control of my life last summer, I *never* exercised.  And I do mean never.  Not only did I not “work out” (in any sense), my lifestyle was completely sedentary.  I’d tailored my jobs such that I spent most of the time sitting down, I did no yard work, very little housework and I never even thought about taking a walk in the evenings or during the summers when I was off.  Seriously, I can remember literally sitting in my car for, who knows how long, idling along in the parking lot of a store, waiting for another car to leave one of the front spots just so I wouldn’t have to walk very far.   I was a complete blob.

Nowadays, things are a little different.  Now I walk almost every night.  I have an exercise bike at home that I used all winter (it’s collecting dust now, but that’s just because it’s nice outside).  And I make the effort to move my ass from here to there, rather than spend all my time sitting on it.  But I have to admit, as far as exercise goes, that’s really it.  Every once in awhile I’ll do a 30 minute workout that I see on fitTV or I spend a few minutes lifting my little 5lb hand weights.  But that’s all.

Having said that, for a little while now I’ve been pondering what the next step for me — exercise wise –  should be.  With the amount of vigorous walking that I do, I feel like I’m getting a good amount of cardio in.  But I’m totally lacking in the strength training department.  And that’s a problem, because while I’m losing weight, I’m not losing that much flab.  My stomach is still huge and I’m fairly convinced that if I flapped my arms hard enough, I could probably take off.  I just feel like it’s time for me to start building muscle, but doing that requires equipment and knowledge that I simply don’t have.

And so enters the gym dilemma.

Here’s the thing, I’m NOT a gym person.  I absolutely abhor the notion of going into a room, full of (rock hard fit) people I don’t know, and doing the horrid, embarrassing, sweaty, smelly things that are required to peel off yet another layer of my fat.  Just thinking about it makes me cringe.  And yet, I know that if I’m really serious about all of this being about more than simply losing weight and if I’m honest when I say that I don’t just want to be thin not fat anymore, that I truly want to be healthy, then I’m going to have to do *something* besides walk each night.

So… today, I went to the gym.

A girlfriend of mine belongs to a local gym and for a couple of months now she’s been singing its praises and telling me that I should go along with her.  She really wants me to join (she says she’s desperate for a workout buddy) and so she offered to let me use a few of the free guest passes that she is given each month.   I told her that I would go once school was out, so she called me yesterday and we made a date to meet at the gym this morning.

The truth is, despite all my hesitation, I went into it with a pretty open mind.  I even told my husband this morning while he was brushing his teeth that I was kind of excited about it.  But by the time I got into the car and was heading there, my excitement was bubbling over.  I had the top down in my car, my shades and my work out clothes on and my “gym bag” and two big bottles of water in the passenger seat.  I was going to “the gym” so I could “work out.”  I felt sooooo cool, man.

And then I got there.

My friend was waiting in the lobby.  She’d already told the receptionist, a size -2 teenager, about me.  They had me fill out some paperwork and then, because I was a guest, and not a member, I was on my own.  The place was HUGE.  There was a cardio room, a weight room, a pilates room, a yoga room, a full gymnasium, racquetball courts, a swimming pool, a locker room, and a smoothie bar.  All of which, were jam packed with people whose combined body fat didn’t equal even a 10th of mine.

But still, I trudged on.

I started in the locker room where I was greeted by lots of half naked to completely naked skinny girls.  A dream come true for others, perhaps, but no so much for me.  Luckily, I was able to find my way to a locker with my eyes closed, where I stored my stuff and then fumbled my way out and upstairs to the cardio room.  There I found an open spinning machine.  The moment I sat down, the size 0 girl to my left groaned.  She literally groaned.  I tried to smile and make eye contact, but she wasn’t having any of it. She rolled her eyes and groaned as if to say “oh great.” Apparently, sitting next to a fat girl at the gym was not her idea of a quality work out.  But, not to be deterred, I spent the next 10 minutes trying to figure how to a) adjust the seat so that I could actually reach the pedals, b) get both of my feet into the plastic strappy things and c) turn the damned thing on.  Of course, I was in the front row.  Lots of people saw me struggling.  No one offered to help.  Eventually, however, I worked it all out and then, at last…  I was ready to spin!

And spin I did.  For 20 whole minutes.  I set the machine to a program that went from lower to higher intensity in small graduated spurts.  I pushed the resistance up to what seemed like a low to medium range and then I spun my little legs off.  The entire time,  the same phrase kept running through my mind:  “Don’t look at anyone… Don’t look at anyone… Don’t look at anyone… Fuck! You looked at someone!” <Repeat.>  I tried to watch one of the 10 televisions that were mounted to the wall, but I kid you not, they were ALL set to the food network.

*sigh*

After my 20 minutes of spinning, I took my jello legs back downstairs where I watched (but did not join) the pilates class (which my friend was a part of).   At this point I was very tempted to give up.  I cannot tell you how out of place and uncomfortable I felt, but instead I decided to head back upstairs to the weight room to see what strength training, which was why I was there in the first place, was all about.  Two things I noticed right away:  a) everyone in the weight room looked *very* serious about pumping iron and b) every single one of them had a trainer/friend either telling them how to do it or cheering them on while they were doing it.  And it was then that I realized that there was no way I was ever going to be able to do that.  I watched for a few more minutes but then headed back downstairs where I dodged more naked girls, grabbed my stuff and then left.   And I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved as I did the moment I walked out that door.

On the way home, I called my friend to apologize for leaving early.  She didn’t answer, of course, but I left her a voice mail and explained that the gym simply wasn’t for me.

At this point, the old me would have headed to the nearest Burger King to drown my sorrows/embarrassment in an elephant sized order of french fries, but instead I went home, threw about a dozen blueberries into a cup of yogurt and sat down to write this post.

And here’s the really surprising part: I’m not upset at all about it.  Truly.  In fact, the more I think about it, the more thankful I am that I had the chance to go and to confirm what I already suspected.  Sure, it was all very embarrassing and uncomfortable, but it’s over now and I’ve learned something:  I am not a gym person.  The gym is not for me.  Great.  Now I can cross that option off my list.

The thing to do now, of course, is to figure out what *is* for me.  Clearly, this is easier said than done and the truth is, I haven’t a clue where to begin.  If the gym isn’t for me, then I don’t have that many options left, beyond buying more exercise equipment to keep here — but that doesn’t really solve the problem of not knowing how to use it.  *shrugs*  For now, I’m not going to worry.  I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing *and* do my best to have a little faith in myself.  I may not have all the answers, but I’ve done alright so far.  I’m sure, given a little time, I’ll figure this out too.

*fingers crossed*