Confession: I hate working out and I only do it to avoid getting fat. And yes, this is a whole post of quintessential first-world problems.
I should preface this rant with the recognition that I am not a skinny person. There have been moments in my life where I have been slim, but those are not the norm. I’m not being all self-deprecating and calling myself fat, but I am recognizing that I am American normal, which means that I could stand to loose ten pounds, but I’m not going to have any problems getting the arm rests down at the movie theatre. I’m also almost six feet tall, so I like to think of myself as proportionate.
My height/weight combo means that I do not feel any sympathy for skinny person problems. By this I mean the favorite rant of slender people, “vanity sizing.” Do I feel sorry that the willingness of designers to shift sizes and allow me to continue wearing my size forever has forced you into a 0 instead of a 2? No, no I do not. I am vain enough to love vanity sizing. Thank you, fashion industry (except you, Abercrombie). What even is a 0, or a double 00… do you have negative mass???) But vanity sizing can only do so much, and I like to stay relatively constant, which brings me to exercise.
There are people, rare special people, who can eat whatever they want, never work out, and look awesome.
I am not one of those people. I’m pretty sure that if I thought about a donut long enough, it would appear on my hips.
And so, I exercise. Yes, I like the endorphins, and yes, it makes me feel better about the whole day if I get some physical activity in, and yes, I have some weird obsession with only showering if I have “earned it.” But mostly, I just want to run long enough to justify a milkshake… or two. I wish that I loved working out. If I did, I would probably finally start using Twitter, just so I could chirpily tweet out my amazing work outs and feel superior.
If you remember those lofty resolutions from January, I decided to do a noble experiment and mix up my 12-year work out regimen of almost exclusively running with some cool gym classes. I went dutifully to a cycling class 1-2 times a week, every week, all semester. (I also attended a Step class once, which was just as humiliating as I’m sure it was for my uncoordinated ancestors in the 80’s, only minus the brightly colored leotards. The instructor did however play lots of boy band music from the nineties, which might be the best work out music ever. I would have sung along, but I didn’t want my perfect knowledge of every single lyric to every single Backstreet Boy song to intimidate others, so instead I just lip synced furiously.)
After this exhaustive foray into being a Gym Go-er, I can definitively say that I hate working out. At least with running, you see cool stuff, like puppies or blossoming trees or shady looking people in side alleys (hooray DC!), but in the gym, I am painfully aware of my own misery. Here is what a typical Spinning Class with Hannah is like:
5:00: Arrive 15 minutes early to set up bike. Struggle to achieve the correct height, despite having done it ALL SEMESTER.
5:15: Start warming up, which is totally a bad name, since I am pretty much roasting from the second I walk in there. Peppy instructor says she will turn on the fans “once things get hot.”
5:20: Make wild gestures to indicate that I need the fans NOW. In an entire semester of classes, I was the one to beg for the fans every. single. time. (Except when Kristen did once, because we might be sweat kindred spirits).
5:25: Now that shirt is totally soaked through, start wiping face on towel. One week I forgot my towel and that got real ugly real fast.
5:35: Token Beyonce song comes on and I experience a brief Queen B centered revival.
5:40: Beyonce song ends and I re-plunge into despair as Peppy Instructor tells us to “go faster with our FEET not by turning down the resistance” and I consider walking out and leaving her and all the chirpy sorority girls texting while biking behind.
5:45-6:05: Misery. Sweat. Stare at clock. Repeat.
6:10: Cool down, stretching, self-congratulation.
And then I walk out and decide to have ice cream for dinner, because you know, I worked out and stuff.
Are you all Gym Go-ers? Despite my hatred, I will probably keep going, so I am always up for fun new classes. What work out regimens do you like/ what songs do you play to numb the pain?