The Nth Coming of a Gym Bunny?

I've been having an absolute blast at the gym over the past few weeks. Loving every single second of each minute that I put in, loving the feeling of accomplishment afterwards and having all the fun in the world. Who would have thought?

I'm no stranger to "I'll start going to the gym regularly next week/ next month/ after exams." I'm no stranger to getting all revved up, working out like a maniac for one, two, maybe three weeks and then never wandering anywhere near the gym for months, until a new "This time I'll stick with it" phase hit. Even early this year I was ready to make gym-going resolutions. I didn't though, and my recent gym going has little to do with 'resolving' to incorporate regular exercise into my life.

After a few half-hearted visits to the campus gym in September and early October (only Aquafit classes, as far as I can remember), the place had not been graced with my presence until mid-February. I spent all those months feeling guilty and discouraged. Thankfully there was no associated bank account depletion, since my gym membership is covered by university tuition.

Still, I alternated between feeling guilt about not having made myself visit the gym, and guilt for having wasted precious money on locker rental and towel service (that was at times when I was sure I'd never make use of either again). There was a lot of "I just don't have the time" or "I just can't make the time next week or the week after, look at all this stuff I'm already behind on everything" and "I don't want to, don't feel like it and hate the gym anyway."

I wasn't completely inactive - there were trampoline classes, skating, occasional yoga and a few runs. And I was walking to campus and back, 40 minutes one way, pretty much every single day of the week. Yoga and runs were too infrequent to really count as a fitness effort. And I've never considered any of the other activities to be 'hardcore' exercise. Trampoline was my new fun activity, and it wasn't exactly a workout because bouncing time was rather limited due to class size. Skating has always been about fun, and fun only - even though some days I am drenched with sweat afterwards. Walking is no deal for me - it's something I love and have been doing all my life. I'd probably have to power-walk 20 kms on daily basis for it to have any fitness benefits.

The current adventure started with a fitness class. I don't remember what my reasoning was, why I decided to go to the gym that particular day and why I was adamant about sticking with it, or even why I opted for that particular class. I just went.

Perhaps I was thinking that a class might be a better way to ease back into exercise. There is variety, there is action, it's about following the instructor. And once you're there, you've got to stay - it's not possible to press the 'stop' button and leave, or certainly not without attracting attention to oneself. I also knew that the instructor was a good one.

I still can't believe how much fun I had and what pleasure it was (despite a very very awkward moment early on). It was hard work, can't deny that, and my legs were about to give out on one of the jumping lounges sets. But I persisted, and with a huge grin on my face at that.

Fitness classes were never my forte. I always struggled with keeping up, with keeping the rhythm and was always one move behind and doing the right leg when everyone else was doing the left. I used to think that my 'newness' was the reason and that I'd improve with time. Didn't really happen. I did stop feeling so self-conscious about my mistakes, but I still avoid being in the front of the class.

However, this particular class was a breeze. I did mess up, not once, but only slightly. And I was able to catch up in no time and not to make the same mistake again. It felt good. Next day I was sore, and felt even better knowing that I had worked hard and that my body knew and appreciated it.

I've been going back regularly, to this class and to the gym itself. A bit of running, a bit of this and that. I haven't missed any of the killer classes since my first visit, and I know that I'll miss it in two week's time, when I'm planning to head out of the city for the whole day. I wish that could happen on a different day of the week so that I could go to my fitness class.

Is that addiction? It might be. I'd like to do more. Heck, I'd go to the gym twice a day! The day when I left my runners at home and thus couldn't go to a step class or do any other exercise was not a happy one. :P But I recognize that I've got to be realistic with myself and remember my other priorities. I'll stick with what I'm doing, focus on enjoying it and not losing my positive attitude, and I'll do more when it's possible.

In a way, all this feels like a rebirth, or a new coming of my gym bunny alter ego. The difference is that this time I'm not making myself do anything. I do not wake up thinking "oh yes, gym, yes, have got to go, promised myself." I want to go. I want to work out. I want to feel soreness the next day.

All this makes me think that this isn't just a new sequel in the series of a limited number of gym-based episodes which end suddenly and unexpectedly and get forgotten until the new sequel makes the top of the priority chart a long while later. I don't want to jinx myself (or feel like a fraud if this does turn out to be a new sequel in the series). But I feel that I am having too much fun for that to happen. So what changed?

One day in January I was very early for my trampoline class, and decided to kill time by having a relaxed lunch. My spot of choice would have been one of the couches overlooking the pool gallery, except none were free. Undaunted, I pushed the heavy door leading to the actual gallery and found a spot on the long wooden bench. Below me was an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and about a dozen people of various ages were enjoying lane swimming.

I watched them casually while enjoying my sandwich, a small yoghurt and a very juicy orange. It was still too early for trampoline when I was done eating, so I stayed on. The fragrance of the orange hung in the air for a bit, and was gradually taken over by the typical swimming pool smell of sanitized wetness. I remember watching the swimmers and the sparking water and thinking, I miss this.

That didn't take me to the gym. I did want to go swimming or to Aquafit, but first I had to find a solution to my swim-wear problem. The destruction of my swimsuit seems to have been an unwanted side-effect of my pool visits back in October. I'm guessing that the chlorine combined with the subsequent lack of use and a slight decrease in my size changed my Speedo into a shapeless, stretched, ugly something with bits of rubber (lycra?) all over and stiff strings-once-shoulder-straps.

I don't think I could swim without my entire chest area being on display, which is not something I'm keen on.:-S This problem has not been rectified yet, partly because I don't have the funds for a new swimsuit, and partly because I'm loath to purchase a new one only to have it destroyed in a similar way within a few months. So realizing that I miss the pool didn't exactly translate into embracing the wish for a swim.

Not long after that pool gallery lunch, I was attending a two-day self-defence workshop. I had expected it to be just skills, but we also had a lot of discussion and the whole experience turned out to be much less of a workout than I had expected. However, we did get to practice different blows and kicks and blocks, and did get quite physical while practicing the said moves on rolled up mats - and trying hard to make them fly. I remember feeling slightly puffed after delivering a series of blows, and the feeling of victory when the mat did fly. And I remember thinking, This feels good. I want to feel like this more often. I really miss it.

Guess where I headed the following weekend? :)