Years ago I saw a cartoon that has always stuck with me, it was probably on facebook, it was one of the ones with the elderly woman that has droopy boobs who loves her wine and lives on sarcasm. Anyway, it said something to the effect that she was going to start calling her bathroom “The Jim” instead of “The John” that way in the mornings she could say she went to the the gym first thing every morning.
I love my gym. It has expensive membership and I could find a place to workout far cheaper than what I am paying, but in my opinion I am getting what I pay for. I’ve tried less expensive gyms. Places where I am a nameless face and the trainers, instructors and staff have no real interest in my personal goals or achievement. Not at my gym and last night I was reminded exactly why.
I was trying out a new class. A boot camp style format incorporating kettlebells amongst other torture devices. It being a new class I wanted to make sure I would be able to walk out of there at the end, so I selected lighter weights. It was a conservative move and one I was comfortable with knowing I’d still get a good workout as this instructor never disappoints. About three minutes into class the instructor walked over, reviewed my choices and declared me “cheating”. She promptly replaced my choices with selections of her own.
It was challenging, but I did it. She knew I could. I was in fact able walk out of there. I’m sore today and getting stronger for it. Each painful movement reminds that I will not begrudge the monthly bank draft labeled “athletic club”.