As if the music weren't bad enough.....

Some people like the gym. And that is great - good for them, I say. Provided they avoid anvils falling from the sky, errant busses or other such freak accidents, they are ensured a long, healthy life. Better yet, after hours spent gawking at a tv above their treadmill they will never be behind the times when coversation inevitably drifts to the latest sitcom.

On the flip side some of us, well statistically speaking most of us, just can't get all that enthusiastic about a wellness routine that requires we basically add a second shift to our full work day. And for the few months where we reliably adhere to our gym schedule every trip is preceded by "I have to go to the gym" - as if we were being sent to detention.

The thing is, there are a lot of gyms, studios and fitness buffs that are earnestly trying to reach us - this hardened (or maybe softened?) demographic who appear to be immune to the lure of shiny lights on a treadmill dashboard. From pole'lates (yes, you heard that right) to Zumba (isn't that, like, a cordless vaccuum?) the experts have tried to tempt, spice and sassy up just about every type of movement you can fit into a glass walled, bamboo floored, hour long class .

But there's just one problem. The folks adding the spice aren't the ones eating the dish. Finding something that we working stiffs will find fun and enjoyable requires being able to understand where we are coming from in the first place. Apropos, a client of ours sent me this email (below). I figured I would forward it along in order to help bridge the gap between the beautiful people who love the gym and the rest of us.

THE BIRTHDAY GIFT

For my birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased for me a week of private lessons at the local health club. Though still in great shape from when I was on the varsity chess team in high school, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and try it. I called the club and made reservations with someone named Tawny, who identified herself as a 26-year old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear.....hmmm. My wife seemed very pleased with how enthusiastic I was to get started. The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress for the week:

MONDAY:

I started my day at 6:00 am. It was tough to get out of bed, but well worth the effort when I arrived at the health club to find Tawny waiting for me. (She's something of a goddess with blonde hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile. WOO HOO!!!) Tawny showed me the machines and took my pulse after five minutes on the treadmill. She seemed a little alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I think just standing next to her in that outfit of hers added about ten points. I enjoyed watching the aerobics class. Tawny was very encouraging as I did my sit-ups, though my gut was already aching a little from holding it in the whole time I was talking to her. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!!

TUESDAY:

It took a whole pot of coffee to get me out the door, but I finally made it. Tawny had me lie on my back and push this heavy iron bar up into the air. Then she put weights on it, for heaven's sake! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made it the full mile. Tawny's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. Muscles feel GREAT!!!

WEDNESDAY:

The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I am certain that I have developed a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was okay as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a Minicooper in the club lot. Tawny was a little impatient with me and said my screaming was bothering the other club members. (Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning, and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.) The treadmill hurt my chest so I did the stair monster. Why on earth would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by the invention of elevators? Tawny told me regular exercise would make me live longer. I can't imagine anything worse.

THURSDAY:

Tawny (what kind of stupid name is that anyway?) was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half hour late, it took me that long to tie my freaking shoes. She wanted me to lift dumbbells. Not a chance, Tawny! The word "dumb" must be in there for a reason. When she wasn't looking, I ran and hid in the men's room until she sent Lars looking for me. As punishment, she made me try the rowing machine. IT SANK!

FRIDAY:

I hate Tawny more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. (stupid, skinny, anemic, little cheerleader wannabe). If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. She thought it would be a good idea to work on my triceps. Well I have news for you, Tawny, I don't have any triceps. And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me freaking barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and PE teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like a drama coach or choir director?

SATURDAY:

Tawny left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice, wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my planner. However, I lacked the strength even to use the TV remote and ended up watching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

SUNDAY:

I'm having the church van pick me up for services today so I can go to express how thankful I am that this week is over and pray that next year my wife will give me something a little more fun...like a free root canal !!!!