The Gym, Part 2

This week, I returned to the gym for my physical assessment. The assessment turned out to be an enormous sales pitch for the gym's personal trainer services. The assessor clearly had a schtick that he was determined to get through and by the end, I'd be convinced that the only way I'd ever get into any shape at all would be to pay over $100/month (on top of the gym fee) to have a personal trainer. He and I were not on the same page. He had a tough job. He failed.

For the assessment, he used a machine to evaluate my upper arm, my thigh, and my stomach. He also tested my ability to pull on a metal bar attached to the floor, and to stretch my hands toward my feet. When I extended my hands well beyond my feet, he said that my flexibility was great - so we wouldn't be working on that. I said, "But that's the only thing I can do!"

I thought the personal assessment would include instruction on the machines - helping me learn which machines do what, helping me figure out what I should do. Nope. He didn't even let me near any machines. He said that because I hadn't worked out before, I couldn't start with any weights. That's right, part of his sales pitch was to make me feel like a huge loser who can't even use the fancy gym's fancy equipment. No, instead, I had to do humiliating exercises like walking like a crab in the middle of the gym, right beside the enormous dog. It was my worst nightmare come true. When I told him that I felt really self-conscious, he said, "Oh, everyone starts like this. You're doing fine. No one is even paying attention." Then, a really beautiful man walked by. He glanced in my direction, as I was squatting and crabbing, and turned away. I think I saw him smirk. If I could have straightened up, I would have. If I'd been able to walk to the door, I would have done that too.

I refused to pay for personal trainer services after that. I left the gym, legs burning and dignity in tatters. Yesterday, I gathered all of my courage and walked into the women's only part of the gym. With some support from the kind woman at the desk, I overcame my fear of the elliptical machine. OK, so I wasn't as smooth as the girl down the row, but I didn't fall off or get twisted up in the machine, and I considered this a definite step in the right direction.

I glanced down the row a couple of times and saw the young woman taking a drink of water, wiping sweat from her brow with a towel, changing the settings on the machine - never breaking stride. Confidently, I thought, "I can do that." I let go of the arm bars, leaned forward and almost lost my balance. I fished around for the bottle, finally got it but despite several valiant attempts, I couldn't get the bottle to meet my mouth. There I was, pedaling away, arm bars swinging wildly beside me, mouth open, trying desparately to get the bottle to my mouth. When I hit my nose, I stopped trying.

Next up, yoga class. I don't think I'll tell them about my coordination issues.