Getting Fit

It was a boring Saturday afternoon as I sat on my couch and gulped down the last of the box of powdered donuts. As I contently licked my fingers clean a terrible thought suddenly struck me; I was getting fat. I tried to deny it at first. I thought to myself that one box of donuts doesn't make a person fat, five or six does. And as I glanced to the opposite end of the couch I was delighted to count only three other already emptied boxes. Four boxes is clearly not five or six. The only reasonable conclusion I could come to was that I was not in fact fat, but within the completely normal and healthy range.

Happy with the settlement I had made, I got up off the couch and slowly dragged my feet into the kitchen where I locked eyes with another box of donuts on the counter. I licked my lips, went to grab them, but then thought about the five or six box rule I had made. If I ate this box it would make five. Troubling. But then I thought about the rule a little harder. There must be a loophole in there somewhere. I just have to find it. Then, it hit me. "Aha!", I thought. I said five OR six. What if the fat cut off is actually six? As I sat there debating I suddenly had another epiphany; I was fat. No denying it this time. When you look for loopholes in your own rules, you know you have a problem.

That was it, I thought, I was going to the gym. I adjusted the elastic band on my sweatpants with pride as I slipped on an old pair of slippers, grabbed the car keys, and headed off to the local fitness center.

Upon entering the gym I noticed something peculiar; the staff seemed absolutely ecstatic to see me. They smiled and jumped around with what I suppose was joy. I wasn't quite sure what they were so happy and excited about. Were they waiting for the day when I would join? Did they know me? Was I THAT fat? I didn't recognize them, but as I gazed into their eyes I couldn't help but notice their smile was so wide that the corners of their lips practically wrapped all the way around their face and almost touched behind their head. They also appeared to just kind of bounce everywhere they went instead of walk. This seemed to be the magical place of happiness and energy.

As I walked up to the front desk to buy a membership the young lady who was to assist me began spouting things off like, "Oh my god! Hi! What are your fitness goals?! I just did upper body today!! Tomorrow I may do lower body, but I don't know!!!? Wanna see me do a back flip?!! Weeee!!!!!!" Her hair sprung all over as she tried to push her enthusiasm to new heights.

I wasn't sure how to respond, but it didn't matter because she had already exploded at that point.

Once I had my membership, it was time to really get the workout my body needed. My first plan of attack was to find a machine suitable for a beginner like me. As I strolled through the gym I realized I couldn't even tell what any of the odd, metal fitness contraptions were for. I decided that most appeared to be nothing more than a big hunk of black and white steel that was twisted and contorted until it looked like something a giant beast had chewed up and spit out onto the gym floor. Some even had straps and seat belts dangling about. I wonder how fast they went when you used them. I also began to wonder if this was really a gym or some kind of Medieval torture chamber. The guy shouting and groaning across the room as he was either attempting to bring a pair of metal handles toward him, or keep them away from him as they pushed toward him pointed to torture chamber.

As I walked I finally found a machine that looked a lot less intimidating than all the others. It was just a simple gray, metal box type thing with an upper and lower level. With confidence, I climbed onto this piece of fitness equipment and attempted to figure out how to work it. First, I tried sitting in the lower level, as this was probably meant for beginners. It was a tight squeeze, but I manage to get into what seemed to be the correct position. Then, I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I tried doing some sit-ups but I kept hitting my head on the upper platform. I attempted to do push-ups but had to stick my feet out of one end because it wasn't quite long enough.

After I had exhausted all possibilities with the lower platform, I figured it was time to try out the top portion of this strange contraption. As I climbed out from the bottom and onto the upper platform, I realized there were a lot of strange exercise gizmos and attachments to play around with. One was just kind of a long stick with some strange cloth at one end, kind of like a sparring tool, and others were what appeared to be some sort of hand grips. Great, I thought, something I'm familiar with. I took the plastic, red hand grips in either hand and just began to squeeze away until I got a good burn going.

Once my hands and forearms were so fatigued that I couldn't possible do another rep, I wiped the sweat from my brow and decided to climb back down to the lower platform and pump out a few more push-ups. As I began crawling down the side, however, a personal trainer walked over to give me a few pointers. Normally, I like to be left alone, but I decided if I was serious about my fitness I should let him show me a thing or two, just in case I was doing something wrong.

When he got to me, I smiled and said 'Hello.' He gave me a bit of a strange smile back and just kind of scratched his head for a second. That's when I thought to myself, oh boy, here we go, I'm obviously using incorrect form. I took a deep breath and listened as he instructed me. The first thing he said was, "What are you doing on the janitor's cart?" The janitor's cart, so that's what this odd contraption was called. I told him I'd never heard of it before but I really felt like I was getting results. At that point he gave me a kind of confused stare. I didn't understand. Were beginners not supposed to be using this machine? He proceeded to tell me that I sprayed all of the cleaner out of the spray bottles that were sitting on the top platform that I was now dangling from. That's when it hit me, a janitor's cart, I knew it sounded familiar. And those weren't hand grips I was using at all. No wonder each squeeze kept dowsing me in a lemon scented mist. I thought it was some new workout method to keep people motivated to do the next repetition.

Needless to say, now that I was fully aware that this 'exercise machine' was just a janitor cart, I was a little embarrassed. Why didn't I recognize it sooner? I looked, felt, and, thanks to the cleaning fluid, smelt like a real amateur. I only hope I didn't look too silly as I clambered all around this cart trying to figure out how to operate it. No matter, I thought, I'm sure plenty of other members had made the exact same mistake.

From that day forward, I vowed to make sure I fully understood any gym equipment before using it. And, as a testament to that, I'd just like to say that I am now an active gym member and have mastered the 'elliptical machine'. Do I use it? No. But I could if I wanted to. Instead, I'm more interested in checking out this tall, metal contraption that has lots of little narrow steps on it. I think I heard other members call it a 'ladder'. I think I've heard of that before. Whatever it is, it looks like it's just what I need to push my fitness to the next level. The gym really is a rewarding place, just so long as you're not afraid to explore everything it has to offer. I'm just glad that whole janitor cart episode is long behind me. I hate it when I don't look professional.