Have you ever had one of those serendipitous moments when a couple of seemingly non-related events develop into an “Aha!” flash that’s so awesome you want to shout “WOW!” except you were in church or something and that’s not such a great idea?
All right, I admit I should probably get out more because my “Aha!” flash might be somebody else’s “Oh, that’s nice.”
The first part of this convergence of events began a few weeks ago when I decided it was time to (again) get serious about going to the gym. I am a lifelong member of the “Big-Time-Losers-Club” where the mission statement runs along the lines of, “If you faithfully pay your dues every month, eventually your body shape changes like magic and people on the street start mistaking you for Jennifer Aniston.”
Needless to say, I was still waiting for the magic when reality finally bore down on me. If I were going to be mistaken for anyone, it would not even be for Ms. Aniston’s grandmother for heaven’s sake. Therefore, I decided I’d best make my way to that place where I’ve dutifully paid my membership fees all these many months and do it the old-fashioned way: with the releasing of blood, sweat and tears.
Arriving for my first session, I was greeted by a lovely staff member named Cheryl who has a bright, sunny smile and a disposition to go with it. Cheryl showed me around the gym, finally bringing us to the stationary bikes. She dialed in the proper seat and intensity settings and told me to do five minutes. The catch? I had to keep pedaling or the dang thing cancelled out my time. Well.
The moment I began I grasped how pathetically out of condition I was. Feeling seriously in danger of fainting dead away onto the floor, I checked my time. Surely I’d been pedaling for hours.
Forty-two seconds. Oh, boy. Cheryl had darted away to check something back at the front desk, and I toyed with the idea of pulling the plug on this thing. Or tampering with the odometer. Or something—anything!
Unfortunately, such remedies were way beyond my level of expertise. Best to hang in there and just keep on pedaling.
At 90 seconds, I hit the wall. Every fiber of my being was pushed to its limit. I feel my body shutting
down when suddenly a second wind materialized from somewhere, and I meet my five-minute mark and proceed to six
minutes. OMG, completely beyond awesome!
Reporting back in to Cheryl, she gives me a high-five (I’m such a sucker for high-fives), and she introduces me to the Hall of Torture, i.e. the weight machines where we work out a beginning routine I’m to follow.
After my session, precariously tottering out of the gym on my spaghetti legs, Cheryl said she wants me to aim for an eventual 30 minutes on the bike. Oh. My. Gawwwd! Not a chance—no way!
Until …
My Aha! moment came in the form of Kevin Bacon. Well, not quite literally. You see, this year marks the 30th anniversary of that dance-your-socks-off movie, “Footloose.” To commemorate, the “Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon” brought Kevin and his dancing shoes onto the show where the 55-year-old actor made an epic entrance by recreating his iconic dance to Kenny Loggins’ song “Footloose,” and holy cow!
May I just say you simply don’t have a pulse if this isn’t the most energetic, can’t-sit-still song of all time? And as I joyfully watched that performance on the “Tonight Show,” it hit me—it’s the MUSIC. And it’s been there the whole time.
So I downloaded the song (and a few others), “kicked off the Sunday shoes” and laced up my psychedelic gym shoes because I learned that energy comes to us in many ways. For me, it’s music that cuts me loose and rocks me out.
And those 30 minutes on the bike? With some high-powered songs coming through my headset, that feat may be doable much sooner than I ever dared to hope.
Gale Hammond is a writer and freelance photographer who has lived in Morgan Hill since 1983. Reach her at ga***************@ya***.com.
