Wednesday, October 13, 2004
My drug of choice
I so did not want to hit the gym yesterday evening. I wanted, after arriving home, to eat, fall asleep, watch television after I woke up, and surf the Internet until my spouse came home.
So of course I went to the gym. I had no excuse: the gym bag had been packed, I had plenty of time to get to the gym, and I really do enjoy the work out.
What?
I read in a fitness mag a long time ago (before 2000) an article where the writer--a personal trainer, of course--stated one should select exercises one enjoys before branching out. This is especially true when starting a new program. This reduces the chances of "slipping": of stopping one's workout routine. (Which apparently occurs between 1-3 months after starting the program.)
I chose step aerobics as my exercise of choice when I started hitting the gym hardcore back in 2001. I enjoyed the routines and, especially, the music. While I can't dance worth diddlely-squat (no comments from the peanut gallery, y'all), I have enough rhythm and lack of embarrassment to keep up with the instructor. (Usually. Unless they're teaching true dance. Then it's either the pool or the elliptical trainer with a mental note to drop that class.)
Music thrills me, hitting my emotions in an almost sexual manner. I'm amazed more guys don't take the class for that reason alone. The rational side of the brain drops as my senses focus on the instructor's calls. The body--especially breathing, the arms, and the legs--respond to the beats. Nature loves routine and repetition and designed humans the same way. And all this provokes that sweet rush of andrenaline which dulls old and constant aches and heightens one's senses. No wonder one can't sleep for a while after a good workout.
What a rush!
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