In short, I suck at the gym.
A year ago, I joined a gym in the next town over from me. I had high hopes, and, per usual, they fell short. I went maybe once a weekend, almost never during the week. It did come in handy for hot showers when we lost power for a week last summer. But it just wasn’t convenient. It wasn’t near the train, and it wasn’t on my way home from my job when I moved to RI. Can you be a professional excuse maker? Between that and worrying, I’m the best ever.
So, when my one year contract was up, I joined the gym at BAC. Its cheap, and how much more convenient can you get? Plus, I could run or walk during the day and shower before going back to work. They even have towels and soap/shampoo provided. Really, no room for excuses.
Ha. Every Monday, I dutifully drop my bag off in the gym. And every Friday, I faithfully pick it up. It doesn’t move in the five days in between. I open the door on Friday, and say hi to the girl at the desk. When I do, I picture her thinking, “oh, good, she’s coming to work out.” And then I feel as though I disappoint her when I slink out with my bag, avoiding eye contact. I like to try to convince myself that she doesn’t know that I didn’t work out every day that week, maybe I’m just exhausted. Maybe I spent 2 hours at the gym in the morning. Who is she to judge?
But in the end, I head for my car (which is a long walk away, for the record. And I take the stairs in the garage. Take that gym judger) and home to my Chinese take out. And I promise myself I’ll be better, yet cry a bit each month when the money for the gym is deducted from my checking account and I realize I’m averaging $20/visit. I’ll go this week, I swear.