A La Fitness Mode: My Life on the Treadmill

When I’m in fitness mode or “on-the-program” as I like to call it, I’m pretty much all-in.  Being on-the-program means dedication to strict diet and rigorous exercise.  It also means making small sacrifices like bringing my own microwave popcorn to movies, limiting myself to only one glass of vino when out with the hubs or friends and committing to cardio and strength training 2-3 times a week. The results have been so worth it.

I first joined a gym when I was in high school – it was called Spa 2 and it was located within a dilapidated strip mall situated between an awful supermarket and the only Chuck E Cheese in the area.  But at the time, Spa 2 did the trick – it was cheap (student rate, baby!), had an ample amount of weight machines, treadmills and even an indoor track. Oh, yeah – and the eye candy made it especially fun, since lots of cute boys from neighboring high schools were also members.  (Turns out my future brother-in-law even worked there at the time, but I didn’t know that then!)

When I got to college, I would work out in the Athletic Center with my soccer player friends or swim laps in the competition pool from time to time.  And then in the summers, my bestie, Mis, got an internship with The Fitness Company and scored us super-cheap rates at a swanky gym within a local Marriot.  The trainers were such hotties and we’d have the best time working out.  When you are 19 and single, there’s nothing quite like really good looking guys to get you motivated to get in shape.

Upon graduation, the student discount got dropped so I had to trek on over to the cheapest (and possibly the WORST) gym ever – Bally Total Fitness.

Ugh.

It was so awful, I won’t waste your time with why…

So then it was back to the Marriot once I became a graduate student at NYU, thus qualifying me for the student rate again and affording me the chance to work out in a pseudo-civilized manner.  This arrangement worked well for a while until I moved to a condo that had a gym within the club house, and wanted to save a few bucks a month.

A minute later, I became pregnant, and stopped all sorts of gym activity altogether.  Partly at the recommendation by my conservative doc, but also fueled by my first-time mommy fears that exercise would somehow compromise the pregnancy.  (Disclaimer: I know TONS of women who worked out all throughout their pregnancies and had NO problems whatsoever.)

And so a little over a year ago, I found myself post-baby, and on the hunt for a good gym experience to get back on-the-program. The hubs, baby and I were living in the ‘burbs without a gym “in the clubhouse” so I was in need of a place to workout.  That’s when I decided to succumb to direct-mail marketing and give a local all-women’s gym a shot.

I was hesitant at first. An all-women’s gym? Like on those cheesy Lucille Roberts commercials?  But the sales manager talked a good game – positive atmosphere, luxurious touches like fresh flowers, complimentary protein shakes, meticulous facilities, personal training and nutrition coaching.  So I abandoned my apprehensions and joined.

The good news was that I saw results pretty quickly, and in total, lost about 15lbs, toned up, got my nutrition back on track and felt pretty good.

But I found the circuit-training set up a bit monotonous.  Where were the Zumba classes?  Is there a kettle ball anywhere up in this joint? The scheduling was also not so conducive to my lifestyle with a toddler, and they did not offer childcare.

But the final nail in the coffin was the music.  God help me, the music was ATROCIOUS.  And that’s when I realized that I’m better off working out amongst some sweaty, meaty dudes because every time I would hear Shania Twain belting out “I Feel Like a Woman” from the gym’s speakers, I felt like hurling a medicine ball out the front window. Where was music to get the blood moving?  I practically hugged the trainer who on one occasion – and one occasion only — actually blasted Ozzy’s “Crazy Train” after I begged for some testosterone in our gym tunes.

Maybe I am better off at the co-ed gym after all…