Readers-
I am not a gym person. The word “gym” conjures up images of blue uniforms and locker rooms from the 1980s. Those were rough times, not to be relived.
I understand the concept of the gym. You pay your $30/month, sign up for a year, and hope, through osmosis, that you’ll get in shape. I have a fundamental problem with gyms–I cannot imagine paying someone money to work out. Remember, my sports are mountain biking and surfing: the mountains and the ocean are free.
I have friends who belong to gyms. They like to proclaim on their cell phone to me, “I’m going to work out,” and I honestly have no idea what they’re going to do. Lift weights? Go to a step class? Swim? I hear spinning classes are cool. Then what do they do? Shower? Grab a soy smoothie? Have a cigarette? I just don’t get it.
Secretly (or I guess, secretly up until this point) I have always had a minor level of disdain for those who paid someone else so they could keep in shape. Hogwash! I cried–just ride your bike or walk the three miles to the store.
But that was before the bike accident and slow recovery. That was before the metabolism slowed down to a glacial pace. That was before responsibilites piled up and weather didn’t cooperate. That was before time became very, very precious.
So where am I? I’m heading to San Francisco this week to surf (yes, I know, it’ll be cold) and I am hopelessly out of shape. I’m going to go for it anyway because that’s what I do. The last time I surfed in the cool Pacific waters off California, I got beat up and dehydrated. Twas a great time.
And when I get back, I’m going to join a gym. Why? I’ll tell you why. As a freelancer, it takes some serious will power to self-motivate to write, edit, and find new work. At the end of the day I have no will power left to haul my ass off the couch and do the right thing. I need to get out the house. I need to work out first thing in the morning so I don’t head into biking season ten pounds bigger than last year.
I need to lose weight. I need to feel better about what kind of physical shape I’m in.
Sigh. I need to join a gym. Heaven help me.
SheSpoke 
Hey, I go to Curves. Its a gym for women and its not a meat market. Try it you might like it. By the way did you get my message about meeting Don Boute, his wife and little boy in Portland Oregon. I guess he knows you or knew you. He puts on Poetry workshops and is a bicycle advocate in Portland. His wife is a professor and they have the cutest little boy.
Cheers Shadow
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Shadow
I have a hard time believing you’re a poet. You spelling and grammar are atrocious, and your comments show little evidence of the kind of deep thought that poets use in their art.
A poet would have known that my review of “He’s Just Not That Into You” was a review of the movie, not an exercise in man-bashing.
I also have a hard time believing you’re a female. Girls don’t call each other “treasure” and don’t, as a general rule, watch Westerns.
You’re welcome to continue to read my blog, but know that because you have misrepresented yourself and have done nothing but attack and judge me in your comments, that I won’t be responding anymore. I’ve got much, much better things to do.
Don’t you wish you did?
SheSpoke
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Wow! You are an angry little woman. As you stated in one of your self glorified statements “This is my therapy”, I do not feel that I have to spell properly for you as you are probably never going to go beyond what you are doing. As far as if I am a woman or not, believe what ever you want, it does not matter. I enjoy what I do for a living and I truly hope that you do not grow old and alone. You are correct in one thing, I will not waste my time with following your worthless trivial blog site.
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