Saturday, July 30, 2005

Signing up at 24-hour Fitness... or How I Got Revenge for Gym Class Trauma

So my other great friend (condo-mate, uber-coffee supplier and all around great bud) Phil got me to sign up at our local gym, 24-Hour Fitness. Now for me to actually JOIN a gym is quite an amazing feat. I come with some physical fitness baggage.

I was not a "sporty" kid. I was a nerd... (was? am? whatever...) and I pretty much liked all things that didn't involve sports or broccoli. I remember the long litany of Igor-esque gym teachers (of equal measure male AND female) who drove me nuts with whistles and inane things like, rope climbing, running until you puke, sweating, and (my middle-school favorite) Dodgeball (which I promptly boycotted and became the seething hatred of my ex-military sergeant gym teacher). Then there was my High School gym teacher. A raving, man-hating, ugly-as-sin, lesbian. Why someone with this disposition teaches 14 year old guys gym is beyond me. It was always apparent that she couldn't stand any of us, and in particular me. She probably thought I was a total wuss, and she would of been right. But something she didn't really let anyone know is how to safely lift weights. So let's put this picture together; 14 year old boys - knowledge + competitiveness + really really heavy weights = me trying to beat another guy on squats, losing my balance and tearing a good chunk of my back muscles. My teacher was probably pretty happy about that...

(side note: my junior year Adv English teacher was also the football coach (???) and would never give me anything higher than a C because I was a tall, well built guy, in band (gasp!)... who didn't play on his team that never won a game.)

So not only do I have the long list of sadistic, sad, washed out gym teachers... but then there are the countless peers who, for the lack of anything meaningful in their life, throw all their chips into athleticism. Now... sometime well before I was born, the athletic spirit had merit, a focus on building one up and working well with others. Alas, by the time I was born it had become the opiate of the masses, the thing that all else was unfairly measured, and a complete distraction to what I though really mattered (AP classes and getting the nerve to talk to cute girls) But in the end it gave me the outside-looking-in perspective that I quite enjoy.

SO back to current events... there was a "deal" (which I'm always skeptical of) at 24-fitness that they were waving all fees and signup charges. Get this, NORMALLY, they charge something like $70 to $100 bucks for "filing paperwork" So all those jocks who didn't learn anything, well they work in gyms now, and they think that filing paper work is REALLY tough, so they charge alot for it. Like I said, I got past that and got a super deal through my buddy, Phil. So now I just pay $15 bucks a month, keep my head low, and hope that the manager isn't my old High School gym teacher.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

for a while, I had to do something called adaptive PE, which had to be just as traumatic as yours in a way.

imagine trying to play kickball from a wheelchair, with other broken/damaged kids who were just cognizant enough to be angry that they are broken/damaged. Some of them could walk barely, but kicking with aim? Forget it. I got lots of balls in my face, some of which I'm pretty sure were not accidents.

After that came one-on-one physical therapy. Some of my therapists must have been the wives of your gym teachers. Like G.I. Jane drill sergeants or something. Roll over! sit up! What? Am I a dog? You want me to play dead next?

Some of their attitude said no not exactly a Dog, but you are my b---h now! Okay, whatever. Close the eyes. lift the legs. All in the name of some future strength and independence.

So anyway, I'm thinking about joining a gym too. Work my arms and legs with the pulley weights or something.