Back to the Gym

I don't know what took me so long. It was great.
I'd never gone to the Gold's on Ben White; it's about the same distance from my house as the one near the office, so I decided to try a new venue.  The place is HUGE; honestly, it seemed four times the size of the downtown gym. One small quibble:  the men's and women's locker rooms are side-by-side, about three feet apart, and yes, they're clearly labeled, but the signs are high above the doors, and you can't see them when you're standing right in front of the doors, so naturally, I strolled into the men's locker room.  I was about ten or 15 feet in when I noticed the urinals off to my right.  NAME OF GOD!, I shrieked to myself and hurried out before I caught a glimpse of anything else, um, male.

Someone had told me that the treadmills have individual TVs on them, but unfortunately, those TVs are only affixed to the elliptical machines. One of the trainers pointed out, helpfully, the long row of big TVs facing the treadmills, and when I asked if headphones were provided, he said "Actually, you just read their lips."  Ha ha.  My phone was pretty low on juice, so I went in there unwired. 

Man, you get a workout in the gym that you just don't get in the real world.  I'm reminded of that every time, and maybe that's (subconsciously) why I tend to avoid it for long stretches.  But not anymore.  Really, I mean it.  I like taking it in 10- or 15-minute intervals:  walking at 4.2, then lowering it to 4.0 while I put the incline at 5 or 7, then run at 4.5 for 7-8 minutes.  Even in the air-conditioned gym, with the personal fan on "high," I sweat buckets, and after five miles, everything feels taut and sore -- but in a good way.

Lynn and Sam came over for barbecue and the Olympic opening cermony last night. I thought it was great.  My favorite part was the Daniel Craig/Queen Elizabeth skit, followed closely by the moment when the English athletes came out last, and the music and the drums accelerated, and the crowd went crazy.  (Lynn and I went into hysterics when one of the announcers described the Queen as "cheering wildly," and the camera cut to her stony, thousand-mile stare). I love the Olympics.  Every time I watch them, I get inspired to strive for excellence in some physical area.  I am very happy, and humbled, to say that I don't need the inspiration to keep doing five every day.  I've passed that.  My goal this Olympics is to just get better at doing five. Faster. Earlier.  Less whiny.