Mine’s a generation when people are unnecessarily obsessed with working-out. Not "exercising" mind you, "working-out". It doesn't matter even if you hog on sugar-frosted cupcakes, or road-side chaats after a session of heavy gym-ing, but you still need to come out of the gym with sweat stains all over your T-shirt, with your napkin completely soaked with even more sweat.
But I had to let go of all notions and convictions last week, when Tarun asked me to join a gym with him. With my college just being for 4 hours, I had the entire day to myself, and honestly I made no good use of it. I figured I might as well join a gym, albeit for a month. Moreover, I’d already got an unexpected alarm the week before, when I could not even manage 10 push-ups decently, as opposed to the 50 I easily used to, when I was a swimmer. Of course, the money I’d wasted last May was still vivid in my conscience, but, after a few hours of toying with the idea, I finally gave in.
It’s been 3 days since, and although a few of my muscles pain occasionally (I just assume they are in the process of being totally ripped. Awesome!), I still enjoy going to the gym daily, and everything associated with it –the strong feeling you get while exercising, even though you’re hardly lifting 20 kgs, the change in your walking style after a gym session (I walk like a body-builder, that’s pretty wannabe; but I can’t straighten my arms!) and the looks you get from old people who see you coming out of the gym, probably thinking of "gym-ing" as a new way of blowing up money by the Facebook-McDonald's generation.
I don’t know why, but I’ve never found gyms useful. In fact, any sort of exercise that people say is good for you, doesn't affect my body in any way. I stay the same skinny, unhealthy-looking-but-unbelievably-strong “boy”, no matter how much I pay heed to these suggestions. I’ve always preferred swimming. Swimming suits me, and I’m best suited for swimming. My abs come into shape even after a short session of swimming, and I feel rejuvenated with the energy of a five-year old. Being a swimmer for almost 12 years now, I hit the water like a fish. It is my medicine; my favourite, and only exercise.
My mother won’t let me join a gym, for she thinks I’ll quit in less than a week, and she’s right in a way. I don’t like the idea of paying a bomb of a price just to lift heavy things. I’d so much rather go to a spa (although I’ve never been to one, are they any good?) than to a gym. And well, I did prove that after my freshman year, when I completely stopped going to the gym after merely 4 days of “light” gym-ing.
But I had to let go of all notions and convictions last week, when Tarun asked me to join a gym with him. With my college just being for 4 hours, I had the entire day to myself, and honestly I made no good use of it. I figured I might as well join a gym, albeit for a month. Moreover, I’d already got an unexpected alarm the week before, when I could not even manage 10 push-ups decently, as opposed to the 50 I easily used to, when I was a swimmer. Of course, the money I’d wasted last May was still vivid in my conscience, but, after a few hours of toying with the idea, I finally gave in.
Since I wasn’t sure how long I’d last in the gym world, I chose a low-price, nearby gym, where most of my classmates went. My friends Sagar and Sangit also pitched into my little attempt at being fit. The room was modestly occupied by equipment made by local companies, and the gym was almost exclusively attended by underweight Engineering students desperately trying to build a respectable physique. The gym trainer complimented me for my high lung capacity, and asked me if I used to work out earlier. I now felt a less awkward about my scrawny frame.
I was told to start stretching at first, I hated this part. Why couldn’t I do the real thing? Anyway, we had also signed up or Cardio, which was supposed to improve our stamina, and may God curse Poona for having load-shedding on Thursdays, because of which the gym had no power to run the Cardio machine that day.
The buffed-up, stern-looking gym-trainer told us to do as many push-ups as possible. ‘Push-ups. Damn’, I thought, without even a second of letting perverted puns enter my mind, I was that horrified.
As I rested my palms on the shahabadi flooring, and stretched my legs backward, I reluctantly bent down, hearing the awkward crackling noise of my rigid bones as I went up and down. The condition of my 3 lethargic friends was no different. Sagar could barely raise his head after a touchdown, while Sangit and Tarun were too stubborn to go easy on their out-of-shape bodies, and kept on doing as many push-ups as they could.
The rest of the session went pretty well, we finally got to use 4 machines, and all of us came out all sweaty, just like those “We-work-out-so-hard-because-we’ve-got-sweat-stains-all-over-our-shirts” people I mentioned before. A hectic session overall, but we had fun nevertheless.
It’s been 3 days since, and although a few of my muscles pain occasionally (I just assume they are in the process of being totally ripped. Awesome!), I still enjoy going to the gym daily, and everything associated with it –the strong feeling you get while exercising, even though you’re hardly lifting 20 kgs, the change in your walking style after a gym session (I walk like a body-builder, that’s pretty wannabe; but I can’t straighten my arms!) and the looks you get from old people who see you coming out of the gym, probably thinking of "gym-ing" as a new way of blowing up money by the Facebook-McDonald's generation.
God knows how long it’ll be before going to the gym becomes the second most-hated thing for me (after Poona, of course, which will always be the first), but as far as I know, it’ll be fun while it lasts! To good health! One, Two, Three...Aaaaarghhh!!!
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