The Not-So-Perfect Gym

I finally broke down and joined a gym. I enjoy jogging and I have been doing very well but I just can’t seem to get interested in lifting weights at home. I purchased dumbbells to work out with but I lost interest after one week.

When I started I could barely run one minute without feeling like I was going to pass out and die. Today I jogged for nine minutes without stopping. Nine minutes! That is amazing for me because when I first started I wanted to cry each time my foot touched the ground.

My work 5K is still over a month away but I am well on my way to seeing my challenge become a reality. I have been running a 5K each time I run now, which is 3.11 miles, and my time continues to get better and better. No more running out of breath and screaming in pain when the run is over. When I was in Long Beach and San Diego I ran my best time and I really do believe the absence of humidity in the air helped me.

When I went for my run in San Diego I was making good time. I would look down at my iPhone and the time and miles were clicking by. I jogged down 1^st Avenue for 1.7 miles and then turned around to make my way back to Mike’s house. That’s when I realized why I was making such great time – I was running downhill. All that ease and pain free running was about to become my worst enemy when I had to make my way back up the hills.

Let me be the first to say, I am not going to lie, to most people these were not even hills, more like bumps, but to a Florida boy who considers a crack in the sidewalk a hill, I was in deep shit without a diaper.

I started off strong but by the time I was 3/4 of the way through the run I was running so slow that dogs were passing me. Have you ever had to step aside for a fucking poodle while jogging down the road? Let’s just say it wasn’t the proudest moment of my life. I almost gave up but after Don’t Stop the Music came on by Rihanna I pushed myself so hard my headband couldn’t hold another drop of water. I made it back to the house and beat my time from the day before. I felt great. Fuck that dog. 

Jogging has really become my passion and I have lost eight pounds from jogging and watching my calories but I need to work on muscle strength. I can barely open a can of pickles without breaking a sweat so after staring at my dumbbells for two weeks, which have been collecting dust on the floor, I realized that the only way to get interested in lifting weights was to join a gym. I enjoy jogging because it gets me out of the house so I figured if I join a gym it would get me out of the house and more excited about lifting weights. You have to be excited about lifting weights because it is so boring.

I wanted to join the cheapest gym but it had to be close to the airport. Work has been very stressful lately so by having a gym by the airport I can go after work and sweat out all of the profanities and anger that collect up inside me during the day. You know – the shit that I can’t share with the people at work or I would lose my job. I decided on Bally’s Total Fitness because it is right up the street from the airport and it is under $20 a month. I know – Bally’s is so 1987. What am I thinking by going to this gym that looks like it is still stuck in the 1980’s? Well honestly, I don’t need a gym with a juice bar, disco lights, and a spa; all I need is some weights, a treadmill, and some air condition – oh and maybe some hot Puerto Ricans. This Bally’s provides the hot Puerto Ricans at no extra cost.

When I walked in I almost turned around and ran back to the jeep because of the, We accept Food Stamps and WIC, sign that was plastered on the front door. I had a guest pass so I figured if I was harassed or mugged, I never had to come back. I ran 3.12 miles on the treadmill and sweat so much I was afraid I was going to slip on the treadmill and break a leg never being able to enter the facility again. I survived my run and went downstairs to speak with the manager about a membership.

When he found out where I worked and what I did for work I thought I was gonna have to give him a buddy pass to shut him the fuck up. After listening to his thick Spanish accent tell me he was fluent in five languages, lived in eight countries, and did not get hired at an airline, I had to ask him to speed it up because I was scheduled to cook dinner at home. The way he was talking I didn’t think I was going to make it home for breakfast the next day.

I was beginning to get irritated so I started collecting my stuff and was ready to get up and leave when he told me that his 24 year old son was extremely handsome, built like a brick house, and wanted to be a Flight Attendant.

I will be dropping off my business card the next time I am there.