I Just Signed a One Year Gym Contract With My Family. Uh Oh.
Several weeks ago I accepted the challenge to juice and I quickly realized that I could never do it on a regular basis; well at least not on a three meal a day regular basis. This week, I found myself staring at a one year membership contract for a gym! As I sat there staring at the paperwork with my husband and son, I wrestled within myself trying to figure out how in the heck I had gotten there. After all, anyone who knows me knows that I am NOT a fan of exercise and since my osteoarthritis diagnosis nearly a year ago, I have stayed away from it all together.
The trainer we originally met with asked each of us what our goals were and what it was that we wanted to change. As if looking at me wouldn’t give him a clue I stuttered and muttered that I wanted to lose at least 75 pounds and get healthier, which in turn would help my knees and hopefully keep me from knee replacement surgery. With my heart nearly pounding out of my chest, this guy knew that I was about to freak and offered to give us a tour so that we could get a “feel” for what we could do once we were signed up. As he explained that the treadmills would allow us to go up to 14 miles per hour, I wondered why he felt like I should know that. There’s no way I would ever go that fast; so who would? Our next stop was the tanning booth where he informed us that tanning was included; seriously – me, tan. No thanks!
In a moment of weakness I agreed that the three of us should take on this challenge. We signed the contract, paid the man, tested out our nifty little key fobs that would let us in at any time, shook his hand and out the door we went. For the next several hours I could not stop thinking about this decision and just how it might impact my life. After all, I am 45 years old, overweight, suffering from arthritis and out of shape. I feel like it’s now or never, but I am petrified. What is it that I am so afraid of? The idea of throwing away the plus-sized clothes and stocking my closet with a brand new wardrobe filled with pretty things that don’t remind me of a feed sack should send me to the gym ever y single day. The desire to feel better above everything else should be enough to make me want to work my way up to that 14 mile an hour speed on the treadmill. But at the end of the day, I am still scared and wondering what I have just gotten myself into. Fear has taken over and somehow I must figure out how to move past it and get moving.
In recovery, I learned that one of the first things you must do is face your fears, leave denial in the dirt and get out of your comfort zone. Well, I did just that and as nervous as I am, I am going to do it. Throughout the course of the next twelve months (saying a year seems way too long) I plan to document this journey in hopes that all of my craziness will help inspire someone else to get up and get moving without starving or living on juice. Hopefully I will wind up with a new wardrobe, some cute shoes, pants that zip and a healthy body. Stay tuned, it’s about to get interesting.