Back in the Race!

O la !

This morning, I worked up the courage to re-join the gym for the nth time. I stayed on the treadmill through two power-cuts, each of which caused me to experience a sensation akin to those experienced during minor earthquakes. Still, I stayed, I fought it out when my tummy cramped, and only left when I noticed the streams of sweat oozing out of the man on my left. It just became too icky after that.

I'd originally planned to re-join the gym last morning. But the day went by in a daze of indecision- which gym to join? Should I just do yoga? Do I need a personal trainer? Maybe I should go jogging on the beach instead... Tumultuous thoughts that lead to nowhere. Finally, when evening came, I felt particularly disgusted with my state of lethargy, which was only aggravated by my consumption of 3 mouth-watering and also fat-provoking Indian sweets. So I picked up my bag with my chequebook stowed away in it, and stepped out the door. When I informed my driver of the destination, he looked at me incredulously and asked why I would join the gym when I never ever go. This thoughtless (but true) remark of his broke my spirit and I trudged back upstairs, mumbling something about the traffic and half-heartedly promising myself that I'd accomplish what I'd set out to do on the morrow.

And voila! I actually did, despite the sniggers from my driver, and the long-standing joke of my mother's that I love donating money to gyms across the city. I returned home from my 45 minute expedition to the sweat factory feeling exhilarated with the endorphin rush. The rush lasted precisly 10 minutes, after which my limbs gave way, and rendered me handicapped.

I know I'm going to feel impossibly hungry owing to my mini-workout. I know my thighs are going to feel like God carved them out of lead. I know that no amount of stretching is going to soothe the ache in parts of my body that I tend to forget even exist when I'm not exercising. I know I'll chide myself for not switching to yoga and staying in shape the painless way. I know I'll curse my gene pool, my metabolism, my sweet tooth, my super-not-model body type, in short everything about me that's not perfect.

Someone recently told me that I don't know what I want, I only know what I don't want. It made me think that maybe I get around to doing things the roundabout way, but who cares, as long as things get done eventually.

But for now, I'm pretty sure of what I don't want- I don't want to be the one left behind while the rest of the world moves on to a better place. So I'm warming up and getting back in the race. I'm going to run my extra mile, even if it's only on a treadmill.