My first day at the gym.
July 4, 2008 at 5:19 pm (gym, weight)
I felt like Bridgette Jones amidst supermodels.
Standing on the treadmill for the first time ever in my life, I was listening to the instructor droning on about the virtues of the machine and how to use it effectively.
There was a row of treadmills, against a wall covered with a mirror along its entire length and height.
There I was, dressed in a hand-me-down sweatshirt and tracks from my husband, and a pair of shoes so old, I can’t even remember when I’d bought it.
To my right was a pencil thin twenty-something, wearing a bright pink tracks which stopped just below her knees, revealing legs with the shapeliest of calf muscles. A short, clinging T-shirt suggested a flat stomach and a curvaceous waist. Ears plugged to a portable MP3, she was swaying to her own rhythm while plodding on gracefully.
The woman on my left was no less perfect. Dressed in a smoky grey gym outfit which boasted a sporty label, she was jogging with intense concentration.
“Now I’m going to turn it on, okay?” the instructor’s voice broke into my surreptious sizing up.
And before I could react, the earth below my feet moved! Struggling for balance, I tried to grab something to regain my balance, if not my dignity! Thankfully my flailing arms were caught deftly by the instructor, before I fell. He also miraculously paused the machine at the same time.
“M’am, concentrate” he said with a tone reserved for an errant school kid. “Look straight ahead and keep walking”.
I did just that, but strangely I seemed to be moving backwards, inching towards the edge of the treadmill. Again he paused the machine. “Ma’m, please come forward and try to stay in the same place”, he said, a little too pleasantly.
Finally after a few minutes, I got the hang of it. But I had to look at my fuddy-duddy shoes all the time, because the minute I looked up, I found myself inching backwards again!
It seemed like I was at it for hours, but it was hardly five minutes. I had another fifteen minutes to kill. After a while my mind got restless. Risking a fall, I sneaked a peek at the mirror. The smoky grey had vanished. In her place was a brooding bearded man, lost in the problems of his life.
The pink was still jogging. She looked like a college kid, but had a practiced air of elegance around her. To relive my boredom, I started making up her story. She was in college. Majoring in literature, I decided. And modeled in her free time. Coming to think of it, she did seem familiar. Maybe she was the one who featured in that shampoo ad. Or was it soap?
That was my last thought on my head when my backside hit the floor with a thud.
You see, I was so lost in making up the story, I hadn’t realized I was doing a moonwalk till I fell off the damned treadmill!
The instructor helped me off my feet, but the others kept at whatever they were doing, without a pause. Like it happened everyday. Had it happened to anyone else, I’d have laughed my head off. But they were just like robots on their treadmills and cycles. Maybe later, they’ll lock themselves in the restroom and laugh hysterically, I thought.
Anyway, that was over a month ago. Today, I sauntered in with my new gym gear, stepped on a treadmill, worked on the controls and was swaying to my own rhythm from my very own MP3. (‘Borrowed’ from husband while he was not looking & only I knew the song was perhaps the oldest in time, made when the instructor was in his nappies)
As I plodded on, I felt a strange contentment. Maybe I am not a pencil thin supermodel. But at least I’m not that overweight woman to my right who’s sweating so profusely after only 5 minutes on the treadmill, that my heart went out to her.
Maybe I haven’t mastered all the machines here and I don’t sprout the greatness of gymming to everyone, but I do feel more energetic these days, ready to face the day’s challenges.
Man, I’ve arrived.
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PS: This was written three years ago, when the iPod shuffle was not so popular! I still gym once in a while…
