My old gym regime doesn’t not seem to have kick-started with the New Year. After a sloppy and indulgent December, I assured myself that I’d start a-fresh come January. It didn’t really go to plan, and sloppy indulgences have now slid past my self-promised New Year marker. This is bad news. As far as I am concerned, unless I go enough times per month that it is better value than paying for individual visits to the gym, then my membership is worthwhile. On average, since joining I am certainly up on the deal having made good use of the gym, but these saving are slowly being dripped away with my level of attendance in December and January. Today I even did the classic move of a de-motivated gym member, desperately clinging on to the idea that his membership is justifiable. Adamant to start a new regime, I went to the gym. Then I drove around the carpark, looking for a tenuous excuse to turn round and go home. This wasn’t too difficult because the car park was jammed, and as I peered through the window, the gym was packed. Not a single running machine free. I didn’t fancy all that hassle of waiting for lockers to become available, just so I can then stand around waiting for gym equipment to become available. I didn’t have that sort of time to spare. For starters, I needed to get back in time so I could write up this blog. Yes, that’s right, this blog about failing to go to the gym. This blog you are reading, about bypassing the gym to write a blog about bypassing the gym. It’s certainly been worthwhile, don’t you think? I reckon this is my most post-modern entry to date. We’re breaking brave new territory here folks. Let’s all take a collective gasp of astonishment.
The only reason the gym was so full is because everybody has resurrected their enthusiasm for exercise, or have signed up to appease post-Christmas guilt and New Year resolutions. Come the middle of February we’ll find out how dedicated these fair-weather gym cloggers really are. Then I’ll once again have a freer reign from the hoi palloy, and will soon get back into the swing of things. I am adamant that by driving round the car-park and going home, I am not showing a sign of failure. I was merely psyching myself up, preparing to get in ‘the zone’ ready for February. Yes, that’s definitely what I was doing. In fact, I am so confident of this psychological approach that next year, I intend to do exactly the same again. Except this time, I will show a bit more persistence through December then deliberately slow down in January to avoid the horrors of the ‘peak month’. From now on, in my world, February is the new January.
I suppose this highlights I’m not a social animal. I am even prepared to take such desperate measures as adjusting my own perception of time, just so I can avoid other people. Even so, I reckon this is actually a rather brilliantly conceived plan. I can honestly say I feel better about myself already. Perhaps this time-shift will even add another month on to my lifespan for every year that passes!
In which case, who needs the sodding gym anyway?
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