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December 2005 / January 2006 Contest Results |
I Fought The
Fear Of Fitness -- And Failed
By Judi Veoukas
Lake Villa, IL
My doctor minced
no words at my last physical: “I cannot give you diet pills; you must
have a fitness routine, preferably at a health club!” (Preferably one he
had an interest in, no doubt.)
Well, whatever his motives, he was the doctor and he had commanded me to
physical activity.
As the Sovereign
of the Sedentary, I cowered at his words, which I had every right to
do -- my fear of exercising in public was well-founded. Thirty or so years
earlier, when I actually had a metabolism, I’d enrolled in an aerobics
class. Twenty minutes into the first session the instructor heralded,
“Great job, people!”
I thought, “That wasn’t so bad.”
Sadly (for me), she followed her initial congratulatory announcement
with, “I hope the next 40 minutes go as well as the warm-up.”
Warm-up? I was near collapse and only 20 minutes had passed? Yet the
class lifted, kicked, twirled, and boogied. I managed one Jumping Jack.
At long last, the instructor lauded us again. “You’ve done well,” she
said.
But then she
glared solely at me, her teeth clenched. “You,” she ranted, “actually
moved your arms and legs together at the same time -- once!” Ouch.
Certain I would
never again join a fitness class, but still young and naïve enough to
think I could mold myself a decent body, I bought a treadmill. Constant
snacking because of boredom while treadmilling defeated that strategy.
I then took up
walking outdoors, slipped on the ice, and broke my foot. Finally, I
purchased a fitness videotape. I accidentally taped As the World
Turns over it.
That was it for
fitness for about a quarter of a century, until the doctor’s
declaration.
After his
warning, I had no choice but to reluctantly check out a fitness center.
I dragged along my skeptical husband for moral -- and financial --
support. Before I decided whether or not to join, we were given a tour.
I learned new words such as “elliptical,” “recumbent” and “triceps
extension.” Old words like “treadmill” were reintroduced, but did I want
to again associate with one?
Actually, I had
to bond with the treadmill; I couldn’t pass 30 seconds on the elliptical
machine where you must work your arms and legs simultaneously. I feared
if I tried to move those components concurrently, I’d be immobilized by
flashbacks of my former fitness instructor’s assessment of my lack of
arm and leg synchronization ability. I also worried I’d fall off the
recumbent bike, even though it was stationary. And, did I really want my
triceps extended? But my 65-year-old husband was already soaring on the
elliptical machine singing, I’m Flying from Peter Pan, and
handing our credit card to any employee who would take it.
It’s now been a
year and I’ve learned so much at the fitness center.
Lesson One: In
order to see the wall-mounted TVs while on the treadmill you have to
hang your head so far back, you could easily break your neck.
Lesson Two: If
you are on a machine and someone decides to sanitize the one next to it,
you could be spray-cleaned along with the neighboring equipment.
Lesson Three:
Even though the elliptical machines (which I’ve mastered just slightly),
are far enough back from the TVs so that you don’t have to do back flips
to see them, if your eyesight is as bad as mine you can’t read the
closed captioning anyway.
Nevertheless,
we’ve had some amazing results. My husband is slim, trim and muscular.
I, on the other hand, have gained three pounds.
“You are building
muscle,” people tell me.
“Does muscle
jiggle?” I counter.
“Well, exercise
makes you feel better,” I’m then told.
“Ice cream makes
me feel better,” I retort.
My husband, who
is now The Flying Wallenda of the fitness center, said it mattered
little what anyone says, that the doctor’s word was all that counted.
Heeding that, I
changed doctors. The new one concurred with the former, reprimanding me
for taking fitness in such a cavalier manner.
I dread going to the
fitness center and do the minimum time required by both doctors, but I
reluctantly admit that I feel somewhat better. I wonder if I’d feel just
as good with diet pills, but I’ll never know.
This next part I
do know because the Diva Cher said it: “Fitness -- if it came in a
bottle, everybody would have a great body.”
Next time I have
a physical, I’m taking Cher along as my spokesperson.
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