My relationship with working out has restarted more times than I have attempted to be in a real relationship.
I do not remember lasting more than six months in a routine. My working out mostly had a lot to do with an imminent physical activity that I had to participate in. I remember the times we used to join fun runs with co-workers. It was a novelty that ran its natural course. I once signed up for a marathon but midway through, had to give it up. I tried going back a few more times, one of which was because of a crush who was a gym staple, but when the crush faded, I faded out of the fitness room, too.
Last week, as the story of my numerous restarts, I began my slow return to the gym. My only consolation is it didn’t take me long enough to get used to not seeing silver stars after floor workouts. I started slow with walking on the treadmill for 20-25 minutes (thanks heavens for offline Lucifer episodes) then a set each of very basic workout from Nike Training Club. I am biased towards belly and glutes workouts though.
It’s only been a week or so, and I didn’t do it daily, so it might be premature to seriously ask why I haven’t shed more sweat and I have not been as energized. I know it’s because of the very gentle intensity of what I do but I miss the rosy cheeks and the sweaty pits and chest and backsides at the end of each short routine.
I also have The Y as my accountability partner of sorts. He cheers me on from 8,500 miles away, no matter how miniscule the effort I put in. Before we went on vacation in May, he had been egging me to workout. It’s crazy realizing it’s not for a killer body, although if it’s an effect of exercising who am I to complain, but endurance and overall, uhm, elasticity?
I was called short legs and a slowpoke. It’s not a direct connection to loving walking as an activity, now I realized. And with the 10-minute walk from my stop to the office, when I increase my speed, I can really feel the effect of my lack of physical activities. I can say the same when going up the stairs to the office cafeteria a mere one floor up. There is also the comedic element of cramping your calves and thunder thighs when doing sex maneuvers. These incidents are what tells me yup, I really should have done some workout of sorts.
Right now, the plan is to continue doing it, to normalize it, since the facility is less than 100 steps from my desk and it’s free. And oh, of course, to be fit!