tales of a newbie

One of my greatest joys in life is making other people laugh. Though I can’t remember a good joke to save my life, I always can file away a good story or experience to share. Sometimes I literally do stop and think, “I have GOT to tell this to (your name here)” That said, after 10 months of being Seattle’s biggest lounge lizard, I recently acquired an LA Fitness membership and some AWESOME stories to go along with it. Let me give you some background info here - I’ve avoided any sort of physical activity like the plague since returning to the Great NW and have been less than pleased with the results. Not only was I a little too familiar with every single Bravo and MTV reality show in syndication, I also was just looking blah. Let’s just say this year’s “winter coat” was a bit thicker than normal. Anywho, an LA Fitness membership just came into my possession and I love it. I’ve been using it for a week and a half now and already get the shaky, crack-addict jitters if I can’t make it to my favorite class. Not only do I love the chance to sweat out my stress and general work-related annoyances for an hour every night, but the gym is providing slam-dunk material for some good stories. I’ll give you a couple today with the promise of more as they come.

Day 1: Found a pirated copy of P90X in Spencer’s backpack and thought to myself, “It can’t be that hard”. Let’s just say that Tony Horton and I are no longer cordial. I started my first and last day of P90X with a Kenpo workout. At several points in the 60 minute workout, I told Tony and his little buddies to suck it because I was going to take a water break and pick up that ridiculous punch, hook, uppercut, jab routine in a few. After being immersed in a world of Chuck Norris high kicks and beating off faux-attackers with Tony’s knee-jab-chop action, I ran some errands and came home highly motivated to do another round of this shit. Without free weights or a burning desire to “do something extraordinary” with my chest and back, I settled on the Stretch workout and pretty much felt like a limber noodle by the time I was done. Day 1 = success!

Day 2: First day using my membership. Since I used to be a spin-addict in Del Rio (courtesy of Sarah Keidel), I figured a 4:15 pm spin class would be a good place to start my LA Fitness journey. After rushing to Ballard, I arrived to class STARVING. Red flag alert! The next 60 minutes were consumed with thoughts of eating warm carbohydrates. Aside from being famished, I was a little thrown off by my portly instructor. He just didn’t seem to fit the physical profile of a spin instructor (i.e. pretty cut, calves for days, etc.) After homeboy plopped me in the front row, my anxiety level skyrocketed when the room filled with Lance-Armstrong wannabes. I’m talking padded bike shorts, clip in shoes, wrist water bottles, the works. These people were laying down 4, 5 and 6 towels on their handlebars and the surrounding floor to control the pending outpouring of sweat. After an hour of being yelled at to “crank that resistance to 17” (and definitely hanging around an 11), I was red as a lobster, sweaty and pretty sure I could eat a small child. Lucky for me, Trader Joe’s is right next door so I popped in and broke the cardinal rule of shopping when you’re hungry. 20 minutes later I’d enjoyed a tasty handful of honey mustard pretzels, 4 huge slices of dried mango and 2 bowls of cornflakes. Aaaaaaaand 20 minutes after that my recycling bin enjoyed the same exact combo. Whew. Haven’t puked since my White Horse days in Del Rio (which definitely weren’t exercise induced heaves) but consider that my lesson learned to A) eat something before working out and B) don’t gorge like a malnourished street kid afterwards.

Day 3: After a Boot Camp class with the funniest instructor on the planet, I wandered back to the locker room to grab my gear. Enter first experience with shameless-old-ladies-who-are-totally-cool-walking-around-naked-in-the-locker-room. I realize that boobs are boobs and we’ve all got ‘em. But is it really cool to come out of the bathroom stall buck naked and proceed to use the hand lotion to moisturize your ENTIRE body in front of the only working sink??? So. Awkward. Much like a car accident, you try so hard to look away but the obvious flouting of social norms occurring just 6 inches away sucks you in anyway. Now she thinks all these girls are checking out her gravity-challenged bod so she adds some flair and shakes out her hair and starts round 2 of the lotioning. Much like Squints Paladoris said in The Sandlot, “She just keeps oiling and oiling and oiling. I just can’t take it no more!”

Day 4: More naked wanderers, dudes using their cell phones in spin class and the magic of watching hordes of 20-somethings walk around hitting on each other. Hoping to get to a point where I’m unfazed by locker room nudity. Yes, I had Jr. High and High School gym class and spent 2 years in a college dorm with shared bathrooms but seriously, girls never get naked around each other.

After a 3 day weekend in sunny/snowy Colorado spent killing it at every Wii sport imaginable, catching up with Taylor Roach, a gorgeous 3.5 mile hike in Palmer Park and seeing the one and only Quinn Bartsch, I got back in the swing of things with a failed attempt at “Step plus Abs”. Apparently it’s a choreographed class aimed at making all beginners look and act a fool. I snuck out and spent some quality time on the elliptical with, ahem, one of the quality Bravo reality shows that landed me in the gym in the first place.

the future me...PSYCH! via