7 Things I Learned from Working Out 120 Days in a Row
And why I quit the gym.
My husband and I stopped going to the gym when COVID-19 hit. Honestly, at that time, we struggled to make it to the gym twice a week anyway, so we weren’t that bummed when our gym closed because of our state’s stay-at-home order.
About a month into staying at home, we realized our daily walk around the neighborhood and playing soccer with the kid just wasn’t cutting it. (To be fair, ‘playing soccer’ consisted of holding a drink while we lazily walked after a ball that had no intention of reaching us in the first place. Maybe my son was purposely not aiming because he recognized my husband and I were becoming a couple of chubs.)
Like many people during the early days of quarantining, I was baking constantly, and my husband discovered this amazing recipe for soft pretzels. I love soft pretzels, and couldn’t stop eating them or the cookies.
I thought about getting a treadmill.
I had been eyeballing treadmills for some time, thinking that maybe I would be more inclined to exercise if the treadmill were conveniently located in our house. Plus, the gym we hardly went to was still closed, and we needed to do something.
In my defense, I briefly considered taking up outside jogging, but Pacific Northwest weather is a bit unpredictable, especially during the spring. And I’m not a die-hard outdoorsy person anyways…so…there’s that. I was getting chubby and didn’t want to exercise outside.
A couple of weeks later, there I was, standing on the scale and shaming myself. My quarantine diet had gone off the rails. I’d eaten too many soft pretzels and cookies. Enough was enough.
We ordered the treadmill that afternoon.
Two weeks later, after two deliverymen literally left the thing in our front yard, my husband and I lugged it upstairs to the spare bedroom. That was an interesting experience. Three hours after that, we had the thing set up. (Do not trust instructions when they say “assemble in 45 minutes!” because that is a crock of shit.)
The next morning, I jumped on.
I had a glorious workout.
I had forgotten how damn good it felt to sweat. To really, really sweat. To stink so bad your own kid won’t even come near you. To have your dog sniff quizzically at places he’s been trained to not sniff. I had forgotten what it felt like to peel off your wet clothes like they’re an extra layer of skin.
It. Was. Glorious.
Since that first workout more than four months ago, here’s what I’ve learned:
1. Doing the same routine was boring. And ineffective.
One of the reasons we chose our treadmill was that it came with a fitness app. On the app, we receive coaching from professional trainers who take you through a series of workouts that are filmed on location. The treadmill simulates what the trainer is doing, and they encourage and push you to the end. Every day is different, from the scenery, to the workout, and the part of the body I’m working on.
While stuck at home, I’ve hiked through the Austrian Alps, sprinted on the shores of Hawaii and the French Polynesian Islands, and ran up and down the cobblestone streets of Croatia.
This kind of workout is so completely different than what I was doing at the gym. I need variety, and I need to keep my body guessing to experience lasting results. And I need someone to help me get across the finish line.
2. Working out gives me the space I didn’t know I needed.
My husband and I have a rule that when one of us is on the treadmill, we close the door and nobody else goes in. We created our own special place — with no interruptions — to both avoid and deal with COVID-19, stressful news headlines, demanding jobs, and a busy five-year-old.
Even if a workout is only 20 minutes, it’s 20 minutes that’s just for me and no one else. I don’t have to share — nor do I want to share — this part of my day with anyone but myself.
3. I make a lot of noise when I work out.
I don’t know if I ever behaved this way when I was going to the gym, but I sure hope not. If I did, and if you ended up working out next to me, I’m so sorry.
I sometimes yell at the machine for not adjusting quickly enough. I scream at the trainer for putting me through whatever torturous workout I’m doing. I suck air through my mouth loudly, and squeeze my eyes shut while baring my teeth. I moan, groan, growl, pant, and gasp for air like I’m dying. I sound like I’m in labor or a wounded animal. Sometimes both.
And I curse. Like, a lot.
When I’m feeling like a total badass (and not dying), I’ll sometimes whoop or shout with a triumphant smile on my face.
4. I don’t want to stop…even when I want to stop.
In the time we’ve had our treadmill, I’ve only missed two days. I work out every day (except for those two), even on the days where my ass hurts from running inclines the day before, and my calves burn with the effort of just walking — let alone hiking, running, or sprinting.
Sweat comes out of everywhere. The machine is splattered with it. And I just want to stop. But I don’t. I don’t stop what I’ve started. I have to finish my workout. I believe every workout counts — even the ones where I feel weak and want to quit and have a shitty attitude.
5. I don’t work out to burn calories.
My focus is on strengthening my body, not burning calories. I’m more excited about completing 10 rounds of sprints without stopping, rather than how many calories I burned during that workout.
I haven’t lost much weight (c’mon, I still love soft pretzels and cookies), and that’s OK. I’m focusing on becoming more toned and stronger. Now, I have a higher level of stamina to endure those excruciatingly hard workouts that oddly I want to do.
6. I’m proud of myself.
Every day when I climb off the treadmill on rubbery legs, I feel a tremendous sense of pride in what I’ve just accomplished — what my body just did. I’m proud that I’ve just accomplished something I couldn’t do two weeks ago.
7. I hated going to the gym before. I just didn’t know it.
Working out, I’ve realized, is an extremely personal thing.
At home, I don’t have to wear deodorant or brush my teeth. I don’t have to worry that my athletic pants will literally show off every underwear line. I don’t worry about seeing someone I know and having to either dodge them or engage in some disjointed, breathless conversation.
I can be gross and clear my throat loudly and obnoxiously. (My husband and I lovingly call this ‘lung butter.’ It’s totally gross, and usually happens the day after an intense workout.)
At home, I don’t have time to procrastinate or make excuses for not wanting to work out. I don’t have to ‘talk myself up’ like I used to when going to the gym. I just put on my running shoes, go to the spare bedroom, close the door behind me, and step up on that machine.
By working out at home, I have more freedom to push myself to accomplish my goals.
I can whoop, shout, curse, growl, or breath heavy. I can sweat profusely and not be ashamed of how bad I smell.
My at-home treadmill and fitness app have taken me to that next level of workout I just couldn’t get at the gym. My worrying about other people and how they may perceive me kept me from being my best. And although alarming to hear from the other side of the door, the sounds I make are the sounds of progress.
I’ve worked out (mostly) every day for the past 120 days, and I’m a completely changed person. Just like my beloved soft pretzels and cookies I still enjoy, I’m hungry for more.
Oh, and I canceled my gym membership.
