Just Don't Say Om

I've finally taken matters into my own hands and joined a gym.  The motivation to run on a reasonably regular basis seems to have taken a steep decline over the past few months, and over the weekend I got a sudden surge of energy (probably related to the increase in daylight hours) and decided to go for it, to broaden my fitness opportunities and give myself a slight kick in the pants.  So now, I have yoga and Pilates and yogalates at my disposal along with ellipticals, weights and medicine balls.  And of course I still have Central Park for running, which is lovely and all, but at my new shiny gym, I can watch "America's Next Top Model" while churning away on a machine -- undeniably a huge bonus. 

The gym is very circus-like, isn't it?  I mean, for people-watching, it doesn't get much better; everyone's neuroses are right there on display, reflected in all the mirrors and amplified by the tight clothing and the sweat.  There are those who preen as they heft weights, gazing lovingly at themselves, their veins pulsing against thin, bronzed skin.  There are the voyeurs, staring at everyone else, enjoying the view of lots of women in spandex, and the exhibitionists, looking around to see who's watching them.  There are the obsessive types, shame written all over them as they hunch over a machine, head down, their legs racing furiously against some imaginary ideal. 

It's all just so weird in a way, going to this place -- this building -- to burn off calories, with hundreds of people sweating all over the place in the same air space.  I've gone to various gyms over the years, and then switched to running when we bought our place and moved close to the park.  Running seems more natural in a lot of ways, being out in the air and the sunlight; but a girl can't live on running alone.  Or she can, but I don't feel like being that girl anymore, and living on running alone is not doing my butt any favors lately. 

(Seriously, I went shopping this weekend, and the brutal lighting in the Banana Republic dressing rooms does not lie; it doesn't even attempt to sugarcoat the truth.  In fact, it slapped me around several times and told me I was hideously pasty and that my upper thighs are dimpled.  So I bought a trench coat, the only thing that could possibly flatter what I saw in that mirror.  Well, and some pants, but they were on sale and appear to have magical butt-flattering qualities.)

I'm going to try vinyasa yoga at the gym tomorrow night (with Cathy, yay!), and there's a very good chance that I'll find a way to humiliate myself in the span of the 60-minute class.  I haven't done much yoga to date, just a few sun salutations here and there in movement class when I was studying acting, and I wasn't especially good at it even in that limited experience. 

I think I had trouble taking it as seriously as you're supposed to -- like the "breath of fire" thing, where you're sort of panting through your nose, just made me kind of dizzy and giggly, and I can promise you that if I were asked to chant I would feel like a giant goof.  It's sort of like when I used to have modern class amid all my ballet bunhead classes; they always wanted us to be earthy and swoop around and make strange, "organic" noises ("unka unnngh", "chaka chaaaaa", that sort of thing), and I just felt like a colossal ass.  Because, generally speaking, I am rigid and self-conscious, while everyone else is able to let go and get into it.    

Mostly, though, I have no doubt that I will fall on my head at some point, and/or, have ah...well, one of those bodily, er, exhalations that everyone dreads in a context such as this.  (I know we are all supposed to be adult and mature about these things, and it isn't a big deal in the grand scheme, but let's all be honest here -- no one wants to be That Girl in yoga class, right?). 

Despite all this, I'm looking forward to it, to try something new and hopefully get some toning/slimming/increased flexibility to boot.  And at least I'll have a friend there to help me up off the floor when I collapse in the middle of the bridge.   

Comments

[cathy]

Since I've already warned you about my total lack of coordination or anything remotely resembling upper body strength, I can't promise to help you but I can promise not to laugh. Can't wait for tomorrow's mutual humiliation!

[jonniker]

HAAAAAAAAAAAa I just signed up for a yoga class, too, and was thinking the same thing: I'm excited, but deep down? TERRIFIED.

[jonniker]

I forgot to add that my instructor for said yoga class is my next-door neighbor. I'm truly frightened. I mean, do I WANT him to see me in yoga pants? Really?

[Sharon Jorgenson]

I started pilates about 5 weeks ago and it is slightly addictive. At my age and size I certainly dont worry about being ogled. Beware of "the backwards plank"!

[-R-]

Are there hordes of teenagers at your gym? Apparently going to the gym is the new cool thing for high schoolers here, and I cannot handle it! They just walk around in packs in giggle while wearing skimpy and totally inappropriate outfits (well, the girls do, the guys wear super baggy clothes), and it annoys me way more than it probably should.

[Lauren]

If it makes you feel any better, I work out five days a week and recently fell victim to the JCrew lighting and mirrors, which revealed my dimpled, pasty white thighs in all their glory. Did I mention I work out five days a week? Is this an age thing (I'm 32)? But gosh darnit I'm healthy, though I'd rather be healthy and not have dimpled thighs. On second thought, that probably didn't help at all. Sorry.

[Allison]

My best experience at yoga class, which was PACKED, was when this woman tried to balance her elbows on her knees while lifting her feet off the floor. She smacked into the linoleum floor with the loudest noise I've ever heard. And of course, it was totally silent except for the relaxing music. It was awesome.

[rachel]

I've been thinking of taking some pilates classes, as my core muscles are seemingly nonexistent. Good luck with your new routine!

(I'm giggling as I type over the image of that poor woman kerplunking onto the hard linoleum floor. )

[Kim]

When you get comfortable with your current yoga class, you should try Bikram/Hot yoga. I think it's the fastest way to lean, toned, tight, dimple-free thighs and everything else. The movements are not so challenging, but doing them while trying to breathe in 105 degrees heat is. You burn about 400-1000 calories per 60 min. session. My bf, who's been working out since he knew what fat is, almost passed out after his first class. It was also his last, but I loved it that whole summer =). Then again, we girls all know it's not the type of work-out that doesn't bring results, it's the lack of consistency. So good luck! I'm sure the BR mirrors will be slapping themselves around instead and apologizing to you for being rude and WRONG in no time!