Going to the Gym.

The hardest part about going to the gym is actually getting in the car and driving there. I’ve scouted out online, all the Rec Centers in my area, checked on pricing of actual gyms for any deals or training options, I’ve downloaded workouts, new diets, looked up fit bits and any other accruement that might go with any workout attire or actual working out. I have music on my ipad, my phone, my mini ipad shuffle, and know at some locations I can plug into something there while on the stationary bike that allows me to listen to music. They really have thought of everything.

I know where I can go for a great gym, the best views, who has the best pool, who has a sauna, steam room or hot tub; as these are not available just anywhere you know. Where I can go afterwards that’s nearby for Indian food, a sandwich, a smoothie, shopping or to hang out at a bookstore. Or screw all that, why don’t I just walk on REAL STAIRS or ride a REAL BIKE or go on a REAL WALK?? That’s free.

I could drive for 30 minutes and hit Red Rocks which is near where I grew up. Which is beautiful and gets me out of the city. It also has a million stairs and makes me feel like a very athletic person surrounded by other athletic people. I once saw a person who only had one leg who was working out on the stairs. Very inspiring. Maybe I’ll do that. Head for the hills. Go work out with people training for marathons and shit. It’s fun to see the tourists who stop by and watch all of the crazy Colorado people who are running these stairs for fun and/or doing paleo/triathlon/obstacle course 5 k workouts. They take pictures and try to run the stairs like people do in Philadelphia because of the movie ‘Rocky’. Besides that, I actually run the stairs and feel like a good workout person even though I’m at LEAST 40 pounds overweight if I’m a day. There is an athlete deep down inside me.

Sometimes going to the gym is sad and lonely. It’s like everyone is on a giant elevator. There is no eye contact, no talking, everyone just looks down and gets out. It’s as if we are all in there in sceret, like its some kind of witness protection gym. I feel like Ralph from the Simpson’s awkwardly trying to say hi or waving or yelling out ‘I HAVE A CAT!’ I’m pretty excited to be there but no one else cares. They are in their private hell that is the elliptical.

I don’t post my workouts on Facebook. That would be mortifying. Who am I bragging to? It would only be revealed that I attend the gym every six months and do I really want all my contacts to know this? Weird. I thought we were only putting our best selves forward on Facebook. That’s why I have all those beer pics.

So anyway, I think I’ll make it out today, to the ‘ol gym. After I take my Kohl’s gift cert and go buy some new shoes.