On finding my workout groove

I dub this Friday, and every Friday hereafter, to be Fitness Friday, on which I prattle on about my very limited exercise experience, complain about people hogging the squat rack, and post my PRs so we can all laugh about how pitiably weak I am (but I'm getting stronger I swear!).

One year ago last January, I joined my very first grown-up gym. Yes, I was one of the New Year’s resolution crowd. You know the ones; they flood the gym, monopolizing the equipment for about a month before disappearing all at once like a flock of migratory birds. And that was me, right up to and including the inevitable backslide. I picked the gym because it was along the metro line and close to grocery store, and went three times a week out of convenience and an illogical sense of obligation to one trainer, to whom I’d assured my commitment to getting into shape.



When I did go, it was always elliptical, and I was usually watching TV. I told myself that doing something is better than doing nothing, and while that is a philosophy I maintain, it took me more than a year to discover a third, and preferable, alternative: doing something AWESOME. It was a long, torturous route from there to here. In the interim, I got my license, stopped going to the gym entirely, starting going to a different gym, replaced TV with reading, replaced elliptical with treadmill, then quickly switched back when I realized I hated running.

As I stood on the elliptical machine, peddling to nowhere much like a hamster in a wheel, I would alternatively look up from my novel to check the time (which seemed to move mind-bogglingly slowly), and to watch people lift weights. They probably thought I was a total creeper, but I couldn’t help it. I both admired and resented them. They made it look effortless, while I couldn’t do a single pull-up if my life depended on it.

My bible.

And so finally, I decided I would start lifting, which is hugely different than just wanting to lift. The first thing I did was tell my sister, who immediately sent me about a dozen links to some pretty great references (to any girl who wants to start lifting, I highly recommend getting a fit older sister).  She also directed me towards “The New Rules of Lifting for Women,” which she’d gotten for me as a gift the last time I was gung-ho about getting into shape, and which I’d put aside in favor of cardio.

No longer the creeper watching from the elliptical machines, I have now become the creeper standing right next to you, watching your form in the mirror and trying to imitate it. I still have a long way to go before I can do that single pull-up, but at least I feel like I’m finally going in the right direction.