Gym Confessions of a Couch Potato

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Confession of a Couch Potato

Thumbnail image from Pixabay

By Susan Goldfein 

I’m all for self-improvement, as long as it doesn’t involve exercise. I’ve become a gym-o-phobe.  The mere thought of a sports bra and sneakers can ruin the most perfect day. But perhaps “-phobe” isn’t an accurate suffix to explain my condition. I don’t fear the gym; I out-and-out hate it! 

This attitude represents a transformation from my former self who was once dedicated to treadmills and StairMasters. Perhaps I took too many steps and am suffering from a case of burn-out.  And, although I have succumbed, I’m unable to make peace with my slothfulness.  So, heeding the suggestion of motivated friends, I have called into play the following strategies: 

Gym-Time Motivation Strategies

Scare Tactics: Laziness is hazardous to my health. I’m susceptible to osteoporosis, and am being very unkind to my cardiovascular system. I’m depriving my brain of the super-oxygenating results of the elliptical machine, not to mention the danger of weight gain. But when I learned how much bouncing was needed to work off an Oreo cookie, I simply decided to forego the cookie. 

The gym can be scary... Image from Pixabay
The gym can be scary… Image from Pixabay

Bribery: If I go to the gym, I should reward myself. Now this was an appealing idea that actually got me into workout attire. But I got sidetracked looking for potential gifts, and before long it was time to go straight home because the dog was starving! 

Personal Trainer: If I hired a personal trainer, I couldn’t wriggle out of my commitment. So, I hired a trainer who came twice a week.  She was a lovely, fit young woman, a perfect role model.  By the third week, I experienced a noticeable shift in my attitude.  I no longer hated the gym; I hated the trainer. 

Vary the Routine: Doing the same thing gets boring. Take various classes. I looked at the schedule. “Yogalates”? Sounds like a drink at Starbucks. Kick boxing? Too aggressive. “Zumba”? That sounded goofy enough to be fun. I attended a class and as soon as the Latin music started, I got the feeling that everyone but me had been doing this for their entire lives, while I was tripping over my feet trying to keep up. Luckily, the loud music drowned out the sound of the door closing after me as I quietly slipped away. 

Susan’s newest book, “How to Complain When There’s Nothing to Complain About,” is available at Amazon.com and other online book sellers. Read her blog at www.SusansUnfilteredWit.com.  Email Susan at SusanGoldfein@aol.com. 

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