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.