Looking hot at LA Fitness

A few weeks ago, I joined a gym.  I am still surprised at this, because the idea of a gym has typically made me sick.  All these sweaty people running in place right next to each other, but not seeming to notice they weren't alone; all those muscles bulging and straining, trying to help their owner look sexier or ripped -EEEW!  But now, three times a week, I am one of those sweaty people working to look ripped myself.

A few of my excuses for joining a gym are as follows:
1) I had so much fun swimming in the Mediterranean that I want to swim more regularly,
2) Working out will improve my mood during the winter months,
3) A nice getaway from a mouse-invested house,
4) If I pay for it, I will actually take the time to go and work out, which is something I want to do,
5) I want to try yoga classes, and
6) I want to challenge myself to build up my muscles and flexibility to be even better than I am!

(Hey, those are great reasons!  Maybe I should not call them excuses.)

Thankfully, meeting men was not one of my reasons for joining, but the idea did cross my mind as I considered the idea.  It is SO cliche to TRY to meet a man at the gym, and so, of course, I wanted to give it a whirl.  Before my first visit, I daydreamed about looking super cute in tight pants and a sports bra (which likely would cause some nipping) as I lifted weights and impressed the men (who in my dream, were all super hot, but not too ripped as to seem obscene!).  This is not likely going to happen.

My first session involved a free hour with a personal trainer who helped me focus my goals and better plan for my time at the gym in the future.  He took me through a workout, focusing on my chest, shoulders and triceps, because I wanted more upper body strength primarily.  I almost died!  He did not go easy on me because I was a girl, or a gym-newbie.  He had me working so hard I could not really finish my third set on every machine.  And for rest between sets, he had me doing push-ups, arm-circles, weight-lifting and some shoulder hold thingy!  That is not rest!  When we were done, my arms felt numb.

My lovely trainer then said, "Ok, now do push-ups until you cannot any more."  My jaw almost dropped, it did metaphorically for sure.  At first I thought he must be joking or punishing me for some mistake I made.  I had to reassure myself that I was not in boot camp or a reality TV show.  I complied, thinking fine, I will show him how awesome I am at push-ups!  Again, that did not go as planned.  I could barely go down to the ground at all, and then could not come up either.  I gave up at 7, knowing none of them looked good, only pathetic.  My trainer was fine with that.  "If you had been able to do a lot of push-ups, than it would not have been a successful workout," he explained.

My dream of looking hot at the gym would only be a reality if I were using the word to describe the physical temperature of my body.  N one looks sexy when they are breathing hard and struggling to complete three sets of 40 arm circles.  I was very glad there were no mirrors around where I could see my face as I hurt my muscles just enough to inspire them to get stronger.  I am glad that I did not join the gym to meet men.  Wow, what a stupid idea!