The Gym

I was never a health club person.
For me, one of the joys of exercise is being outdoors. A good run through the park involves more than muscles and sweat, it includes seeing trees recently leafed out in spring, squirrels chasing one another in the woods, noticing whether the creek is up or down after rain or drought, maybe greeting a neighbor. Biking opens the experience even more, with miles of country road to explore, steep inclines to challenge those quads, and the whoosh of wind in my ears on speedy downhill rides. I also dance and practice yoga, and though they are done indoors they involve the mind and spirit in ways I wouldn’t expect in a gym. By comparison, running or pedaling in place seems manufactured.

But something has shifted. I have discovered The Gym.

In the category of “when a door closes, a window opens,” a shoulder injury limited my activity last winter, slamming the door shut on my customary dance class, yoga and running. The window opened when my sweetie invited me to try the pool at his gym – swimming being one activity that is safe for most injuries. After some hesitation (it’s not like stepping outdoors in running shoes and going – you have to fish around through summer gear to find swim goggles and a bathing suit, drive to the gym, figure out their Byzantine system of guests and free passes, etc.) I decided to give it a try.

I felt like an outsider visiting a foreign land. I walked through a maze of treadmills and elliptical machines, took a brief tour of weight-lifting contraptions and peeked into a room full of stationery bicycles for “spinning” classes, where apparently members pedal away while a teacher urges them on, changing the settings on the bicycles to simulate hills and flat areas. I found my way to the locker room and figured out the protocol of choosing a locker (any locker), then hoped my street clothes would still be there when I returned from the pool (I had no lock).

The pool is tiny, four lanes, but not at all crowded. We enjoyed a brief swim, maybe four laps in all, and lots of lolling around in the water. We raced once. My shoulder seemed all right, in fact it seemed to loosen up as I moved it and I felt relief from the constant pain I’d been experiencing. Then I sat in the “spa,” a giant hot tub with swirling jets and super hot water. That alone was worth the price of admission. Which, as it happens, was free, since I was a temporary guest.

And there were other things. Contrary to my preconceived notion that everyone in a gym would be in spandex wrapped over hyper-tight, super-defined muscles, this is a place where all shapes and sizes, all ages and races and socio-economic levels mix. Granted, most people are plugged into iPods while they run or pedal in place. But there is occasional friendly interaction in the pool, the spa, the locker room, and it’s sweet to see friends come to the gym together, chattering away as they get into workout gear. People seem to really be there for their health, they are doing something positive for themselves, and it feels good to be around that sort of effort.

I decided I’d go again. This time I swam longer. I felt I could stay for hours. My body, so starved for physical activity, was ecstatic, endorphins finally flowing again. I swam five lengths, then sat in the spa, then plunged into the cooler pool, invigorated, and swam five more. In the locker room, I helped one of the other members puzzle out her new combination lock, despite the fact that she spoke little English.

Since those first couple of visits, I’ve become a convert. I joined The Gym. This process was not so great – more like buying a car, with the staff throwing out specials and deals and instead of telling me what it costs each month, writing down the sum on a piece of paper as if it were a Great Secret, and sliding it across the desk for me to consider. Here’s the Secret: I wound up joining for a $25 initiation fee and $34.99 a month. More affordable than I would have imagined, pre-Gym Epiphany. Rates vary from gym to gym, of course – this is LA Fitness, in Silver Spring – and, as it turns out, from week to week, season to season, person to person etc.

But now that I’m a member, with a little card I can scan for entry into the sanctuary of good health, all that bargaining and car-dealing is behind me.

When I’m organized and have the time, I go to The Gym with a book to read while I work out on the elliptical machine (kinder on my still-healing shoulder than the treadmill). I don’t have to worry if it’s unseasonably cold, or raining, or dark. I don’t have to make it to The Gym in time for class, I can go whenever it suits me. I can sweat on the elliptical, then rinse off and go in the pool. I’ve worked up to 20 laps, sometimes more, not much by an athlete’s standards but enough to get my blood flowing. And then I get to sit in the spa, position my shoulder at the jets and breathe a loud sigh as I feel the tension flow out into the water.

The whole experience is like visiting a little oasis that is All About Me. I love the actual workout, feeling my heart rate increase, feeling my muscles stretch and come alive. I like to look at the inspirational photos of athletes on the walls, staring out of smooth, taut faces, challenging me to challenge myself. I love the order of the locker room – the efficient little lock I now use, the neat lines of wooden lockers, the convenience of hair driers, the option of a sauna or spa, the satisfaction when I remember all the accoutrements of post-workout routine (shampoo, lotion, hair product, clean underwear) and the efficiency of routine. Visiting the oasis is like a little gift to myself, all in the space of an hour or so.

My shoulder is feeling better. I think it's the swimming, and maybe the spa. Healing: just one of the many benefits of my newfound favorite thing.