Joined a gym, I did. Yes. A new resolutioner. A Janfirster. I am the one in the middle aged persons sweats, with the middle age persons pouch and that shaky, spreading hiney. I'm giving it a go. I'm all in. After a summer of recovering from a fairly significant ankle injury I decided I need to strengthen the bod and perhaps knock off a bit of these cookie crumbs that have wormed their way in to my system. (Damn you, girl scout! *shakes hand in the air*)
It's a lovely gym, cheap and clean. The staff is not entirely fit so that's comforting. The amenities are two massage chairs and four tanning booths. Yup. That's it. It's fine though, isn't it? We are all there to sweat and become stronger and if I am reading the wall correctly...we are all there to not judge each other. I don't belong there then. I am judgy. I judge the lady on the treadmill in a skirt. I judge the young boy sitting on the equipment I am ready to use because he is on his phone. I judge the woman jogging and the man on the stepper. I am judgeymcjudgington. They should kick me out, if they only knew. Still, there is another side to this. It's my you are my sister side. I look at the sea of overweight middle agers and I know that most of this resolve will fade away (as will mine if I am not careful) but here we are. A sea of hope. Sweaty, rolly, chubby hope. And sometimes when I am staring at you on the incline of the treadmill (making it look very much like a podium as i hold on for dear life) as I stare at you I send a little prayer out into the universe. I send a goodwill prayer, a hold on prayer and lastly, a you can do it prayer. We are all brothers-in-chub and your success is my success. So here's to us: The Janfirsters, may we melt into beauty and health by march! *clink*
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