Last night I made the best decision I’ve made since moving here. I joined a gym. After a year and a half of flab fluctuations and wishing I was motivated enough to use the apartment amenities more often, I finally faced the cold, hard truth. The keys to a fabulous and sweaty workout are: men and hundreds of pieces of equipment.* I need variety, and I need eye candy, people. Otherwise, I’ll be looking at the clock the whole time. On top of that, being surrounded by big screens and spandex is like a shot of steroids. I’m wired, and I’m ready to go. Last night was the perfect example. An hour and a half flew by as though it was ten minutes, and I would’ve stayed longer, but I knew I had to use my arms and legs today. There is a gym two blocks from my apartment and several others that are nearby, offering different class schedules and various sizes of facilities. I drove to a newer gym three miles away, and it was newer and much more spacious, so I may alternate between the two depending upon the day. Ironically enough, I would almost rather drive three miles than walk two entire blocks at a gradual incline (no parking at nearby gym). . but that is also because it’s getting cold outside, got all the way down to 42 today (that’s for you, Nebraskans:). I’ll have plenty of workout partners (if I want them) because two of my roommates and a couple of fun co-workers are members, too. I’m so anxious to get back in shape, the way I was before I moved. Actually, the way I was about a year before I moved. Yeah, that’s what I’m going for. Wish me luck!
*I suppose I should make a disclaimer here. I do not run around in tight pants and sports bras trying to get dates or even attention for that matter. But the heavy lifting I observe is a real motivator for me. And who wants to jiggle around the gym in front of cute guys? Or anyone? Not this girl.