working out is working out
Feb. 8th, 2004 01:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quietannSome weeks ago, I joined a gym near my house. With some trepidation I might add...
I have been making it there 2 to 3 times a week. I never intended to go more often than that (and pooh on anyone who says "that's not enough!" It's better than nothing, right?).
My routine is a short bout of cardio, 30-40 minutes on weight machines, then some stretching. (and pooh on anyone who says, "oh, 15 minutes of cardio is *useless*!") I chose this particular routine because it is most focused on what I am good at (building muscles) and it completely ignores the stuff I don't do (like situps. No, I don't do situps. They are miserable torture for me.) And I am seeing results.
If I seem a little defensive, it's because I am a little defensive. For any physical activity, I have a bad habit of making impossible comparisons to other people. I mean, I know better than to compare myself to the little 20-something with 17% body fat (though I do note that I can lift as much as most of them on the machines...). That way, madness lies... But I can't stop comparing myself to the little 40-something with 17% body fat. Never mind that the only time I had my body fat measured, I was 16 and much skinnier than now, and it was 23%. Thomases are built to withstand famine and do the heavy lifting associated with being a farmer, not to sprint through fields or be fawned over for their lithe and supple figures. Sussmans (the other side of the family) are similar, and *always* have belly fat, no matter how skinny. On the other side of things, I won't compare myself to women who are my age but much larger, because it's not a fair comparison.
Luckily the gym I go to has a wide variety of clientele, from the miserable bulima-rexic young women to weight lifters to middle-aged folks of all shapes and sizes, and some elders trying to avoid heart attacks. And a middle aged teacher from the local high school, and some of her students, who are simply mortified that she is there. And a cadre of young guys whose conversations seem to revolve mostly on how much they drank over the weekend, and how they are trying to get their speeding and reckless driving tickets dismissed. (I am old enough to be invisible to them, and get much wry amusement from their posturing...) And teenage boys brought by their fathers for "family bonding", largely unsuccessfully. (I mean, "dads are *old*, man....")
I have been making it there 2 to 3 times a week. I never intended to go more often than that (and pooh on anyone who says "that's not enough!" It's better than nothing, right?).
My routine is a short bout of cardio, 30-40 minutes on weight machines, then some stretching. (and pooh on anyone who says, "oh, 15 minutes of cardio is *useless*!") I chose this particular routine because it is most focused on what I am good at (building muscles) and it completely ignores the stuff I don't do (like situps. No, I don't do situps. They are miserable torture for me.) And I am seeing results.
If I seem a little defensive, it's because I am a little defensive. For any physical activity, I have a bad habit of making impossible comparisons to other people. I mean, I know better than to compare myself to the little 20-something with 17% body fat (though I do note that I can lift as much as most of them on the machines...). That way, madness lies... But I can't stop comparing myself to the little 40-something with 17% body fat. Never mind that the only time I had my body fat measured, I was 16 and much skinnier than now, and it was 23%. Thomases are built to withstand famine and do the heavy lifting associated with being a farmer, not to sprint through fields or be fawned over for their lithe and supple figures. Sussmans (the other side of the family) are similar, and *always* have belly fat, no matter how skinny. On the other side of things, I won't compare myself to women who are my age but much larger, because it's not a fair comparison.
Luckily the gym I go to has a wide variety of clientele, from the miserable bulima-rexic young women to weight lifters to middle-aged folks of all shapes and sizes, and some elders trying to avoid heart attacks. And a middle aged teacher from the local high school, and some of her students, who are simply mortified that she is there. And a cadre of young guys whose conversations seem to revolve mostly on how much they drank over the weekend, and how they are trying to get their speeding and reckless driving tickets dismissed. (I am old enough to be invisible to them, and get much wry amusement from their posturing...) And teenage boys brought by their fathers for "family bonding", largely unsuccessfully. (I mean, "dads are *old*, man....")
