Resolutely Fall

This morning I got up, on a Saturday morning no less, and did something I never thought I'd do in my life.  I joined a gym. 

I've built in accountability - not just the financial investment - but I dragged along a friend, and it is also a gym owned by another friend. 

I find the whole thing sort of hilarious.  I found out at the conference in Chicago that one of my librarian friends was opening her own gym.  Well, basically becoming the new owner of her current gym.  Kim is a self professed "spin addict," and has taught for awhile.  Kim is also the best kind of crazy, and I adore her.  (That she's a kick butt librarian as well is just gravy.) 

So the other night at a baseball game, I turned to one of my dearest friends and said "so there's this gym we should join."  God love her for putting up with my proclamations. 

I didn't even mention it to Matt.  I don't know why.  Fear he'd talk me out of it?  Fear I'd see doubt in his eyes?  I told him Thursday night "I'm meeting Vette on Saturday morning at ten to go join Kim's gym."  He is exceedingly on board.  Looked over the class list, made suggestions.  He is very much pro-spinning (thinking that it will be a good stepping stone to regular bike riding) and I am very much pro-kick boxing (a soon to be offered class).  I want to see what Pilates is about.  I am willing to make an ass of myself at Zumba. 

And I'm completely and totally terrified.  I have a treadmill in my basement.  Other than our stint at yoga, I haven't exercised in front of anyone other than a cat, in forever.  (Given my frequent ability to fall asleep in corpse pose, I can't really call our yoga classes anything beyond flexibility & strength training.) 

Tuesday night is our meeting with the personal trainer, she's going to explain all of the equipment to us, and show us proper form.  (Today Kim gave us a tour.  Demonstrated the elliptical in her high heeled flip flops.  I suspect the trainer means business.)  I'm going to go early and try out the elliptical.  I already know that a treadmill isn't enough to keep me entertained, after burning out 4 weeks into Cto5K.  Maybe the stair climber.  And then plot out my class choices for the week. 

It's September First.  I'm back in the game.  Bring it on. 

Ironically, one of the health bloggers I read posted this today:  Hey Fat Girl.  I've seen it before, bouncing around in the past.  But I needed to see it today.  I needed to re-read that a lot of the people in the gym, on the track, where ever, have been where I am today.  And that they're not all looking at me and thinking "she can't do it." 

It's a women's only gym.  And when I emailed with Kim about it in the past, psyching myself up to this, she mentioned more than once that it's a community.  That they "know each other's business and support each other."  They opened today, under new ownership, and 8 am, and had people at the door.  I thought, sure, sure.  It's a community for you.  These are already your people, the skinny pretty fit people.  But I was so happy to see a variety of ages and sizes among the women there.  And some random stranger came up to us and told us that she knew we were going to love it and make plenty of new friends.  (Thank god Yvette was with me to thank her, I was gobsmacked and speechless.) Everyone was welcoming and kind and a little bit kooky.  Basically, just what I needed to get me through the terror. 

I can do this.  I can do this.  I just need to keep telling myself that.  I can do this.