The Gym. Originally written July 2018

There are very few physical building which illicit dread when mentioned. The DMV. Prison. Your mother in law’s house.

The gym.

I used to assume that the only people in a gym were the fit and active monsters whose existence had tortured me my whole life. The Barbies and Kens of humanity with their plastic pecs and polymer posteriors. The gym was where you went once you were perfect, and not a moment before. The gym was where people without an imperfection stared at themselves in the mirror while a few beads of perfectly sexual sweat appeared on cue.

I wasn’t entirely wrong.

It’s also where I go. Where I went four years ago after joining a gym online after seeing their commercial at 9:30pm whilst sitting on the couch eating. I joined online, paid by credit card, decided to change from that moment forward. And here’s the craziest part of all...

I actually did.
I changed. Right then and there. I got off the couch. I got dressed, I drove to the gym.

I sat in my car and looked through the layer of glass in front of me and the layer of glass contained by the building glowing white with fluorescent streaming through it. I saw the blonde ponytails bouncing on the treadmill. I saw the muscle tees pumping iron. I sat in my car at 385 pounds and had every voice in my head tell me to turn the engine back on and flee home. To go back to the couch and the food and the belief that I was too me to be more.

And here’s another crazy part.
I didn’t.
I got out of the car. I walked into the gym. I took a photo and got an ID card and I stepped onto an elliptical and began.

Began. Began a workout, yes.
Began a new life, a new me, a new purpose, a new passion, a new presence, a new everything.
I began.

My first workout was 20 minutes. I got almost one mile done on the elliptical in 20 minutes. No resistance, no levels, just going.
I almost died about 47 times.
I made no eye contact but watched everyone intently willing them not to see me.

I sweat, and I huffed, and I pushed, and I shook with anxiety and effort and shame and pride. And shock. I shook with shock.

I was doing this.
I was doing it.

Oh fuck. What did I do?