I have had a YMCA gym card snuggled in one of the card slots in my wallet, untouched since last summer. My parents have always been on my case to exercise and get some muscle, so I decided to end their incessant nagging and go to the gym this semester.
As I walked into the weight room of the YMCA on Jan. 19, I scanned the room, trying to decide which exercise to attempt first. I did not dare enter the right side of the room where the free weights were, so I cut left as soon as I entered and headed for the weight machines.
On the right side of the room, a group of five buff guys grunted like neanderthals as they benched pressed what looked like 300 or more pounds. Standing 5-8 and weighing 125 pounds, I clearly did not belong in that part of the room. I always thought to myself that I would build enough muscle on the machines until I could fit in with the big guys over there.
But at the moment, I remained on the opposite side of the room and started my habitual routine, which I established over the summer. I started at the lateral pulldown machine and set it to my standard 115 pounds. Midway through my third rep of my first set, my muscles failed on me and I lost grip of the bar. The bar shot up while the weights went crashing down and the clash could be heard across the room. A YMCA employee shot a dirty look at me — I guess she was more concerned about the machine than me.
After the disaster with that machine, I lifted 15 to 20 pounds less than usual for my next machines. A college girl sat down at the bicep curl machine, which I just got off of, and set the weight to 40 pounds (25 more pounds than me) before starting her workout. In my peripheral vision, I saw her turn around and exchange a few words with her friend. I bet they were talking about how weak I was.
I quickly finished my set and walked to a corner of the room, positioning myself away from the weight room junkies and gossiping girls. I did my leg weights and walked out of the room with embarrassment.
After coming home, I stirred a scoop of protein powder in my milk and gulped it down. It might of just been me, but when I looked in the mirror with my shirt off, my muscles looked a little bigger and yummier than before. For the rest of the day, I felt much more lively and energetic.
The feeling I had after my workout has inspired me to go to the gym more often. I plan on going to the gym at least three times a week for the rest of the year. I just need to make sure that I go during the late afternoon when it is less crowded. That way, maybe I can avoid the college girls who can lift more than I can.