The worst thing about my new gym is all the mirrors. They line every wall, so I can鈥檛 ignore the contrast between my reflection and everyone else鈥檚. I look small, soft, and uncertain, and I鈥檓 wearing clothes better suited to hiking than lifting. Everyone seems ripped and confident, pumping iron in skintight tanks.
I鈥檇 always subscribed to the 鈥渕ountains are my gym鈥 model of physical fitness, but after moving to a city recently, it became harder to stay fit by outdoor activity alone. The obvious solution was a gym membership, so I proposed a 30-day workout experiment to my editor. At the very least, I figured, I鈥檇 get in shape ahead of ski season for once.
I found an option that鈥檚 a 13-minute walk from my apartment and emailed Todd, the owner, to share my story: I鈥檝e never belonged to a gym that didn鈥檛 have a yoga studio or climbing wall, and I鈥檝e definitely never lifted weights, but I want to try. We agreed on a month of personal training: three sessions per week. Combined with the membership fees, it cost almost three-quarters of my rent. That reminded me why I鈥檇 never done this before, and it made me resent my high school PE teacher for not covering the weight-training basics.
On day one, I meet Todd at the front desk early in the morning. He offered to work with me as a personal trainer. He鈥檚 shorter than me but at least twice as wide, and he looks like he could pull a school bus with his bare hands.
Todd explains the breakdown of my three weekly sessions: we鈥檒l spend one day focused on legs and shoulders, another on chest and triceps, and the third on back and biceps. Each workout will be sandwiched between a warm-up and an abdominals-focused cooldown. I nod like all this makes intuitive sense.
The first session is a blur. By the time I finish, my legs feel like Jell-O and my stomach is queasy. Inexplicably, I鈥檓 smiling. Todd tells me I did well鈥攆or someone who鈥檚 never pumped iron. He fist-bumps me and says he鈥檒l see me tomorrow. I get the sense he鈥檚 laying odds on whether I show up.
The walk back home takes a few minutes longer than it should. When I get to my building, one leg buckles on the stairs and I nearly eat it. By afternoon the soreness is setting in. I tell my best friend that I鈥檓 worried about day two. Their response is: 鈥淧ain is temporary, Maren. Muscles are鈥 also temporary, but fun!鈥
The first session is a blur. By the time I finish, my legs feel like Jell-O. Inexplicably, I鈥檓 smiling. My trainer tells me I did well鈥攆or someone who鈥檚 never pumped iron.
The next morning, Todd greets me with a lunatic grin and asks how I鈥檓 feeling. 鈥淎wful,鈥 I say. Somehow I make it through, though I am pretty sure I looked like a baby deer standing up for the first time. (Mirrors were avoided.) Todd keeps saying that 鈥渕ovement is medicine,鈥 and as my muscles warm up, I start to believe him. At the end, though, I feel rough. But I know now that I can get through a workout even if I feel like I can鈥檛, and that鈥檚 new.
The next day I can barely walk, but I force myself to. Movement is medicine. I鈥檓 supposed to take a rest day and then get back to it, but I catch a horrendous cold that keeps me in bed for four days straight.
When I return to the gym the following week, the equipment doesn鈥檛 seem as intimidating. Todd tells me that the soreness I experienced was normal, and this week will be only half as bad. I鈥檓 not sure I believe him, but the prediction pans out.
Over the next three weeks, I feel a bit stronger with each session. The exercises get easier, and I notice that the numbers on the weights Todd hands me are going up. Little milestones feel like victories: one day the weights actually feel too light. I do my first squats with a bar. I show up at the gym in a sports bra instead of a T-shirt.
At the end of week four, my trainer tells me I look stronger and I鈥檓 moving better. I feel it鈥攏ot just in the gym, but elsewhere in my life. I鈥檓 now used to waking up early, and the lingering soreness reminds me that I鈥檓 building muscle. Best of all, I want to keep pushing myself. I can鈥檛 afford a trainer for every workout, but I have a plan to go solo, including a few strategic days with Todd to learn new workout rotations.
During my final training session, I check my form in the mirror and realize that I don鈥檛 look out of place. I notice other people who don鈥檛 look like Greek gods, either鈥攁n older couple, two women my age, a preteen boy. We鈥檙e all learning together. The same goes for the people who look like they belong: they share tips, spot one another, and offer encouragement. Sometimes they even nod at me, as if to say: Hello, fellow gym rat.