Ich haße Schwitzen!

I’ve been going to the gym roughly 3 times a week (never less than 3) since July. Certainly the longest physical exercise routine I’ve ever maintained. Though, when I say gym I really just mean weight training. Because, as I’ve ranted about before, I find the idea of regular gym activities insulting and awful.

I chose the gym I go to now because 1) It’s close. Just around the corner. So only truly inclement weather would stop me. 2) They only offer weight training and have a strictly outlined plan and 3) My mom paid. Lord knows I don’t have the money for something like that. In theory, weight training should be beneficial as building any muscle at all is a benefit, should help raise the ‘ol metabolism and increase how many calories I can consume in a day, and is the most bang for your buck as you burn more calories with weights in the same amount of time as, say, anything else. I also appreciated how simple and short it seemed. Try to do 90 seconds, then move to the next machine. 10 machines in all. No dipshits yelling at you to “just do one more” or anything like that. And no bad music blaring.

And I’ve been doing it pretty much nonstop since I signed up in July. There was a slight gap when I went to Hamburg, and I missed once or twice when I got sick around Christmas. But otherwise, 3 or 4 times a week like clockwork. Totally didn’t bother me. Got up, went to the gym sometime in the late morning, did my thing, and it was over.

Then I went to Prague and, as a result, took about a week off from it. Now I loathe the idea of it all of a sudden. I still go every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday, and it’s over before I know it. But, ugh, I don’t wanna!

Maybe it’s because I’ve sort of reached my limit? The amount I lift isn’t going to increase much anymore unless I were to change something. And I’m not. The goal was never to become ripped or anything. I can feel muscles now that I’ve never felt before, and that’s nice. But there’s still a layer of fat (and, to be disgusting, extra skin) over it all that negates any real visual progress. I even have the slightest semblance of pecs, but they’re betrayed by the remaining man-boob fat that still hangs there.

My membership expires in July, and I haven’t talked to my mom about renewing. I’m not 100% sure if I want to. Maybe find other things to do? Stick to the same schedule but spend the time walking or something instead? It’s the structure of the gym that makes the habit possible. A structure that someone else put in place. I worry I’m not as likely to keep that on my own. And what would happen if I stopped? Would the muscle immediately disappear? Would I lose a few pounds of muscle, but only replace it immediately with fat? I’m going to have stop doing it for a time anyway whenever we move to wherever we move to.

I hate exercise. I hate it so much. I really don’t understand why some people willingly do it all the time. I’ve never finished a workout or any stenuous physical activity (recreational or otherwise) and felt amazing. Renewed. Refreshed. I know that’s what they say it’s supposed to be like. But I just feel tired, annoyed, and sweaty. And who wants to feel sweaty?

I still maintain that I’ve never seen someone look happy while jogging. Look at them sometime. They look miserable. Because they are.

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About shrubbo

Coming to you from Los Angeles, California. Movies, life, travel, stuff, movies, and movies.

Posted on April 24, 2012, in General. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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