Thursday, March 08, 2012

With the slow fishes

You guys know I go to the Y a few times a week, right? I need someone to boss me into exercising because I am way too lazy to do it on my own. I hate exercising. There are people who love it - who claim they get a high from it.

I am not one of those people. I hate every single second that I am exercising and I hate the perky bossiness of the aerobics instructors and I hate the awful music - was it really necessary to make a rap version of The Lonely Goatherd from The Sound of Music? - and the stupid choreography of Les Mills Bodystep where they find all kinds of weird ways to use a step just so they can be justified in requiring the Y to buy their branded Les Mills steps. Oh yes, I am on to you, Les Mills. It is not necessary to stretch over a step. It isn't.

What I love is eating.

I eat, therefore I exercise.

But I have been going to the same class for three years now. I am getting cranky because I hate the music so much. I find myself stopping in the middle of class to check my email or read a People I have pilfered from the exercise bikes section because I need a distraction.

That's not fair to the teacher, who is just doing her job after all, even if she could tone down the "Woo-hoos!" a bit as far as I am concerned. She doesn't deserve my crankiness.

So I decided to take a break from Les Mills' mind-numbing empire and swim for a while instead.

I thought I would be in shape for swimming because I do aerobics and weights and I "run." I thought I would be in shape for swimming because I was on the swim team in high school 35 years ago (no tryouts, obviously). I thought I would be in shape for swimming because I used to swim at the Memphis JCC before work every day when I had a job and was an actual contributor to society instead of being the gold-digging can't find a job leech I am now.

On Monday, I got out my gym bag and my suit and went to the pool instead of the Respect Studio. (Yes, my Y calls the studios "Respect," "Honesty," and "Responsibility." Nothing wrong with promoting those values, but wouldn't it have been easier to call them Matthew, Mark, and Luke?)

The water was warm - going while the seniors are having their water aerobics is a good strategy.* The first lap was fine. With every breath, I heard a spurt of I Will Survive. On the third lap, I heard, I Love The Nightlife.

How come the old people get the good music? Not that I don't want them to have good music, but why can't the step aerobics have good music, too?

Then I switched from the lazy person's stroke, i.e., breaststroke, to the crawl, which is actually hard work.

I lasted 20 minutes. I got in after the 80 year old man in the lane next to me and I got out before he did. I got out very, very slowly and walked very very slowly into the locker room. I walked very very slowly up the stairs after I got dressed and walked very very slowly to my car.

I am not in shape. Three years of "Woo-hoo!"ing has not gotten me into shape. I think it might be time to quit exercising. There is no point.

* Although my friend Kim suggested that perhaps I should question why the water was warm. As long as there is enough chlorine, I guess it's OK.


webb said...

I feel your pain - almost literally. I take Jazzercize five mornings a week - many "whoo's" there, too. On Saturday, I weeded in the garden for about 90 minutes and then tried to figure out how to walk without using my glutes.

Apparently dancing is not enough to keep my glutes really stretched out enough to kneel. I either need to quite dance or quit gardening ... not!

deb said...

Far too long ago my daughter and I signed up with a personal trainer. Best thing both of us ever did! Twice each week we got a workout with a former member and trainer for the British paratroopers. We called him Mr. Torture (behind his back). We both got in great shape, lost many, many pounds, and felt the better for it (eventually...after we could walk, raise our arms, etc.) Honestly, I wish I could afford to do the same again.

Class factotum said...

Webb, I love Jazzercise! But even when I was going, I was not a whoo!er.

You are right - there is nothing that prepares you for gardening except gardening. Ouch.

Deb, I used to go to a great class run by a former Marine drill instructor. I got in shape! And then I moved from Memphis to Milwaukee. Although I do need all that extra fat to keep me warm now.