Becky Joins a Globo Gym

"Here at Globo Gym we understand that ugliness and fatness are genetic disorders, like baldness or necrophilia, and it's your fault if you don't hate yourself enough to do something about it."

- White Goodman, Dodgeball, 2004

So, last month I joined a new gym - like, a corporate, people doing weird things to their bodies, encased in machinery sort of gym.

This year, my rubbish foot got so bothersome (for want of a stronger term) that I had to be rescued from the park by car halfway through a dog walk on multiple occasions because it hurt too much to walk the half a mile home. Clearly my plan of action (hope for the best and purchase squashy shoes) wasn't working. 

So, new plan of action - I had an MRI scan that confirmed that my problematic appendage is riddled with plantar fasciitis, chock full of scar tissue and so unsupportive of itself that it'd hold its shape better if it was made of Play Doh. Now, I'm attacking it with weekly trips to the osteopath, who also gives me acupuncture (needles in the soles of your feet feel lovely, don't they? Like a tiny animal gnawing on your nerve endings), and I've put the functional fitness classes, with all its fun jumping and running and whatnot on hiatus and joined a gym where I can do as much low impact stuff as possible. I can't just stop working out - it takes a lot of effort to look this average. Blood, sweat and pizza, bruh.

DW Sports Fitness has everything I expected from such an environment:

• Immaculately presented ladies with swishy ponytails, somehow not sweating on treadmills
• Flocks of flexing bros orbiting the weights section like muscly satellites
• People reclining on machines, repping out text after text
• Group exercisers being instructed, with no hint of irony to "feel the burn"

Tell you what, though - I'm having so much fun! I joined a fully fledged, Dodgeball-esque Globo Gym (go Cobras!), fully expecting having to bored of being rescued from contraptions I've tangled myself up in within a week. Not the case! 

In the handful of weeks I've been a member, I've discovered a tonne of new ways to move! I've practically moved into the building I'm there so often. When I scan my membership card in at reception, I've started putting my head down in the hopes that the almost American-ly friendly staff there don't point out (accurately) that I might need to get out more.

My foot and I are having a jolly old, impact-avoiding time. Here's what we've been up to:

Swimming

Okay, yeah, I've swum before, but rarely for actual exercise. My experiences of swimming up until now have been at school, where I had to wear a fetching plastic cap and ear plugs to protect my ear infection prone, gromet-filled ears from the tiniest drop of moisture. I spent most of that time in the pool doggy paddling about and hoping that this is what the teacher wanted us to do, because I sure as shit couldn't hear what she was yelling. As an adult, swimming only happened when on holiday, floating like a corpse and hoping that maybe if I drowned, the hang over might stop. It's surprisingly pleasant to be able to do laps without a grown up gesticulating wildly at you, and without the desire for the sweet relief of death.

Yoga

Why, oh why haven't I discovered this sooner? My default setting is 'tense as fuck', and I deal with this by writing lists and hoping that'll help me off the mental merry-go-round of "I need to do this, this, this, that, this, this, this..." and "oh, God, my house is on fire, isn't it?" Spoiler - it doesn't. 

Yoga does, though. Turns out that there's very little room for the thoughts when you're concentrating super hard on not falling over/snapping your hamstrings/farting. I haven't farted in class yet. Not even once. Smug face.

Also, the ten minutes at the end of every session where  you lie down in a dark room is great. I love lying down in a dark room. It's my favourite.

Pilates

AKA '50 different ways to feel like you're having a hernia'. Only done one of these classes so far, and enjoyed. Lots of clenching and balancing and whatnot. Again, no farts. Clearly, I'm an expert in yoga and pilates already.

Les Mills Body Pump

This one's been weird. Done it twice so far. The first time I went, I swaggered in and scooped up all the weights because, "pfft, I can lift WAY more than what these people are putting on their bars!" 

Cut to twenty minutes into a billion repetitions of squats, chest presses, push ups and bicep curls, and I'm flinging weights off my bar like they're poisonous spiders. Confusion reigned - the instructor, bless her, kept nodding encouragingly at me as I stood, nonplussed, thinking "WHAT? What do you want from me?!" as the rest of the group moved seamlessly from movement to movement with the music. 

I spent the next couple of days baffled as to how such teeny weeny weights could make me ache so much, especially since most of my time at class was spent looking in bewilderment around the room. I've been back again since, and am still slightly bemused by the whole thing. All I know is that I definitely want to go again, and that after doing only a few push ups to Lean Back by Fat Joe, I resemble a trout having an epileptic seizure on dry land. Stupid mirrored studio.

Spin

Praise be to all that is good and holy, for I have found my jam! 

• Stationary bike that you don't have to worry about getting flattened by traffic on
• LOUD 90s dance music
• Insane person shouting at you to "TURN IT UP ONE MORE NOTCH! GO FASTEEEEEER!!!" as your legs scream bloody murder at you and you slowly go blind from all the sweat in your eyes

YES. FUCKING. PLEASE! 

Sorry, got a bit excited there. I'm just chuffed to have finally found something as intensely horrible/wonderful as running, where I can trip my tits off on endorphins to Rhythm is a Dancer as I turn purple.  It's *sniff* just...*wipes away tear*.


Yeah. So, there we are. I'm off to yoga now to continue my so far successful run of not passing wind in public. Namaste and all that!

 

zzzzzzzz.....