Try Snap Me Now Mister Hurricane. (Gyms in General)

Member Name: Muffin_the_Mule

Product:	Gyms in General
Date:	15/10/01 (428 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: I won't snap in Strong Winds

Disadvantages: Modern day torture

I have decided to attempt to overcome one of my life's biggest obstacles.
I have decided to confront a phobia of mine.

Unfortunately the lovely Davina McCall has got absolutely nothing to do with it.
I am always willing to make a large mammary of myself, but not on prime time television.

I have a phobia of exercise. I was frightened of running machines. I was frightened of lifting heavy things unnecessarily. I was frightened of the woman in the corner grunting like a bear and bench pressing a Citroen. My decision involves me joining a gym. It really is a last gasp attempt to get healthy. I'm trying to get addicted to exercise, like the man who quivered and sobbed at the sight of a spider who now owns SpiderTown. I want to own some muscles. Please.

This is a decision that has had some of my friends collectively choking on their kebabs, and it is not one I have taken lightly. I tried to get muscles the easy way with the help of an evil muscle contracting electronic contraption, but that gave up the ghost after a rigorous experiment involving the bath and the physics of conductivity. I tried to get muscles by watching lots of sport, hoping for a passive smoking effect at getting fit. Passive exercise doesn't work, and I don't think it ever will. Life is so unfair.

I once joined a gym in Central Manchester on a 3 month membership, it cost me £100.
I sat down with my calculator, pencil and notepad to workout how much that gym had cost per visit in the 3 months I remained a member. After confirming and reconfirming my calculations, I was left with the figure of £50 per visit. Well worth it then.

One night in the pub, I began to notice one of my chunky friends was able to lift his pint with more ease than the chunky fella of old. How was this so? I'll tell you. The sly devil had been secretly frequenting a local gym for almost a year, and it turns out he's somewhat muscular. It didn't tak
e me long to sound out my old schoolchum about his evening activities.
And as fate would have it, he was looking for a training partner.
Club Indigo in Denton here I come. Better check that life insurance policy.

Along I went one fine Sunday afternoon, complete with borrowed shorts and my old trainers. I looked like a foreign tourist in the land of the fit. I was the only man whose shoes didn't match his socks, which matched his shorts, which matched his vest. Vests are an apparent popular gym culture uniform for men. Vests show how hard you've worked on those arm muscles.
The women noticeably like lycra quite a lot. Be this their blindingly obvious first or proud five hundredth visit.

At reception, I was introduced to a fitness instructor who asked me several questions about my general health. For every answer I lied.
He asked
"Do you exercise much in general"
"Yes" I said, convincingly.

"Are you physically active in your job?"
"Yes" this was only true if going to get a coffee constitutes being physically active.

"Do you, or have you had, any joint or muscle problems?"
"No" was my reply.
I decided not to tell him that twelve months ago I dislocated my knee, i'm fairly near the top of a waiting list for a shoulder operation, and i'm a renowned injury magnet. All in the interests of getting fit, obviously.

I handed over my £7.50 visitors fee and followed my pal into the changing rooms.

Changing into my kit, I felt like I was back in P.E at school, where only the boys in the advanced stages of puberty would go into the shower without the security of either shorts or a towel tightly wrapped around them, proud of their personal hanging gardens of babylon.
Everywhere I glanced there was muscular men strutting naked from locker to mirror, and podgy men getting dressed in a clearly rehearsed blur. <b
r>
<br><br><br>Before I was allowed near any of the weight machines I had to warm up on one of the several space age cycles, rowing machines, step masters, funny air walking things, or a running machine that could do random hills. I chose to race a digital Steve Redgrave, and got beaten. I swear I could hear him laughing.
I will say that "Warm up" is a misnomer.
After "warming up" I "sat down" and tried not to "pass out".

Obviously impressed with my excellent standard of fitness, the instructor left me and my bulky chum to our own devices and we were set lose on the mechanical weight machines. I was scouting round for one that looked easy and fun, but thats not allowed.
I had to work a "muscle group" and today, I was in for a Chest, Bicep, and Tricep work out.
I had to wait until next time if I wanted to do the Back, Shoulders and Leg, or Cardiovascular work out.
I could hardly contain myself.

Working a muscle group in rotation lets those muscles recover and be ready before the next time they get used, by doing this it helps them grow. Arnie Rotates impressively, That Flockhart lady needs to rotate some more.

Working my Biceps, Triceps and Chest for a ninety minute session was utter humiliation, partly for me not being able to lift some the weights, partly for my friend for being with someone not being able to lift some of the weights.

I had to do 24 repetitions of each weight, split into 3 sets of 8 at a time. My partner said you have to know your maths to be healthy. I claimed that the greatest mathematician sportsmen were dart players, and you'd never see a darts player in a gym, unless they were improving their drinking arm. Arguement won I think.

I lifted one weight 24 times, then I lifted the same weight 24 times in a different way, and then I pulled a cable with weights on across my body 24 times. I was proud.
Then I h
ad to do some press ups with my feet on a bench, I did 4. Then I had to to do some pull ups, I managed to kick my way up to 2 before falling off, then I had to do dips, arms starting straight, bend at the elbow to 90 degrees, then up again. I did 1½. I was starting to think I was on candid camera.

At this particular Club Indigo, which incidentally is at the intersection of the M67 off the M60, Just next to Sainsburys(see that? Seemless inclusion of information droplets)
After you've worked yourself through the impressive purple carpet and well into the ground, you have the choice of:

A 25 metre swimming pool:
This I didn't do as I couldn't lift my arms and drowning comes last on my "things to do today" list

A Sauna:
This I did do, and it makes you all sweaty and weak.

A Steam Room:
This also makes you all sweaty and weak, only you have the added fun of being dripped on from the condensed sweat building up on the ceiling

A Hydropool.
Bubbles get to places other bubbles cannot, or dare not, reach.

All of which are included in the cost of the entrance or membership fee, You could go and have a go on the sun beds for an extra fee. I'm happily milky white.

After doing my "towel on - pants on - towel off" trick getting changed, we went into the cafe/bar for a well deserved drink. Club Indigo heroically have a special wine appreciation club, this means they sell wine, and beer. Alcohol in general.

It is fun, but not advised, to have alcohol straight after a work out, because you absorb it quicker, and therefore are squiffy faster than Euan Blair with a can of Tennents Super.

The day after my olympianesque exertions, I was aching like a professor of Aches at the Royal college of Achiness in Achesville for 3 days, but I felt good about it.
It made me walk funny, and I couldn't run for my bus, and it hurt when I laughed, but i
t still felt good.
<br>
I have joined this anti-weed, anti-flab, anti-kebab establishment for £40 per month. I am in a routine of going 4 times a week, and this makes me sore a confusing 12 days a week, but its getting better. I even managed a half hearted canter for my bus the other morning. Perhaps I'm not destined to be a human xylophone after all.

Perhaps i should get up earlier if i don't want to run for the bus.

Summary: ..