julierichmond

(It’s about a bunch of things I do at the gym and how weird it is I got there.)

I love the gym.

I do strength training with free weights and machines. I jump on the ellipical, jog on the treadmill, row on brand new rowing machine.

I take classes in yoga, barre, boxing, spin, bootcamps, strength, High Intensity Training, and pilates.

I have been religiously going to the gym for years now, and before that, I swam. Before that, I drank too much, and only swam in the afternoon, and before that I went to the gym.

Before all of that, I was required to go to gym class which I hated because I have the coordination of an animal that is dead or in a coma. Except in gym class, where I was forced to try volleyball, tennis and badminton. I had to throw a ball and run a mile for some Presidential Fitness Initiative. If the President had seen my efforts, I’m pretty sure I would have been sent to Canada.

There was dodgeball, where my only goal was to avoid the ball. I was hit by the ball and, as I write, my thigh still stings.

I can’t describe how awkward my body felt running, or how frantic and huge I felt during sports, from first grade to high school.

In my early adulthood, I found my way to the gym.

I am still not particularly coordinated, but can dance the easiest version of the samba and know some pretty sophisticated zumba moves. But no matter how long I continue, I will never be able to twerk- not sure if it’s a combination of coordination or genetics, but I’ve glimpsed myself trying and you won’t ever see me on Tik Tok.

I can lift heavy. I can do box jumps. I can’t jump rope unless it’s imaginary, but I can jump an imagineray rope for five minutes at time if the right song is playing and the volume is high.

My body finds grace in the water, while swimming. On land, I often feel like a little behind, like my moves aren’t as good as everyone elses.

My biceps don’t pop. I need spanx. My jumping jacks look half assed and I’m probably never going to get my body in crow, which I’ve been told is a frame of mind, but really, my elbows are not designed to support my torso.

What I’m trying to say is- don’t wait until New Year’s, your friend discovers the cult of crossfit, your partner proposes, or your pants don’t fit.

If there’s no gym close by, or the budget is tight, check out online. There are walking clubs, people lift milk cartons, their dogs, there are a million ways to strength train without a bench or a barbell. You can climb the stairs or clean the house. One of my friend does her workouts dancing in the kitchen, another swears by qi gong.

Today, I had the day off from work and spent a half an hour on my phone listening to celebrities tell me what they ate in a day while eating chocolate chips from a coffee cup.

I spent a half an hour on the bed talking baby talk to Chanel the The Most Adorable Pup, instead of making the bed. I went to lunch with a friend where we both agreed life sucked. That was fun, until it was time to leave and I realized I’d lost my wallet.

As soon as I walked in the door, I found my favorite tank top on top of the laundry and a pair of shorts.

It was a cardio-strength-stretch class.

I made it in time to fill up my water bottle and then home to write this.

That is two hours I have not spent scrolling for stories about Hailee Bieber, clips of Carpool Karaoke or Saturday Night Live.

I’m still kind of cranky. But not as much as before cardio-strength-stretch.

If I find my wallet, I’ll probably go to bed not pissed off at all.