I got a lot of flack about my post last week in which I bitched about having to jump through non-exercise-type-hoops before getting to actually do exercise at a fitness facility. Or, well… one flack. Is that considered flack? Maybe. Regardless, I’m pretty sure it’s the angriest comment I’ve gotten, and it was for a post in which I used Zumba as a verb. I thought people who exercise a lot (and for a living!) would be happier. And possibly better able to see that there was humor in them there complaints.
There were some valid points, though, including ‘why wouldn’t you want to be more informed about your health and well-being?’
On the one hand, the meeting had some useful aspects. On the other hand, I still don’t know what a chiropractor does, apart from walk around looking exactly like Uncle Jesse from Full House. I think he might be trying to sell me orthopedic inserts, which would be fine (since my feet, as my orthopedic doctor has told me, are like jelly-fish, and roll in a bit), but I already have an orthopedic doctor, and orthopedic inserts, so I’m all set.
As I suspected, I got asked a lot of questions to which I could respond ‘no’. Do I have diabetes, heart problems, pain in my back, arms, legs, knees or anywhere else, migraines, headaches, asthma? No. Strangely, they didn’t ask about if any of that was in my family history, so I did actually expand on the ‘no’, making it a ‘No, but there’s a history of that in my family’, though they didn’t show any interest in that information.
I got measured. Just to dip your toes in the information-about-my-body-in-numbers game, my neck is 12 inches in circumference. I am pretty comfortable about how I look – hearing the number that is assigned to my thigh, bum, waist, and calf, as well as the percentage of my body that is fat (and then compared to the percentage that it should be)… it’s a downer. I’m pretty sure its sole purpose is to convince you that you’re in dire need of full-time personal-training. Luckily for me, my pragmatic gym-buddy reminded me that they are, in fact, really trying to sell you something, so I got out of that funk quickly.
They then actually allowed me to exercise. Shocker, I know.
I biked for the purpose of measuring my oxygen-intake during exercise. Apparently, despite being a much higher percentage body fat than I ought to be in their opinion, I do quite well at biking at their very low pace without actually requiring a lot of extra breathing.
I did chin-ups on a fancy machine, pushups of the girly variety, and sit-ups suspended upside down like a bat. I really need to work on my upper body strength more.
I did plank position. Another aspect of strength training I ought to work on.
So that was useful, can I go to classes now?
Well, no. Not without first participating in my free personal-training. That was scheduled for Sunday, and went pretty well. It was useful in that I actually got exercise, and that she explained the use of a large number of weight-machines.
Then they tried to convince me to sign up for a ton of personal training sessions that would get partly charged through my health insurance plan. I declined, what with still not being willing to give them my credit card information, and what with really just wanting to go to a few classes.
Good news, though – I can now participate in actual classes at the gym! Huzzah! Have I mentioned that they have bellydance classes? I’ll be jingling all the way past the front desk, finally!