*A collaborative post written by Shilts
Joining a gym has to be one of the scariest things to do within the realms of ‘normal’ every-day life. I mean, it’s not skydiving scary, or rollercoaster scary, or even aerobatics scary, but still it’s quite frightening.
Picture the scene. You pay the money, you get the tour, you buy a load of new clothing, some items of which you hadn’t even dreamed of buying, and you set aside some time in your schedule. Well done. All that’s left is to walk through the door.
I have carried out this process probably 5 times in my life so far. Maybe more. Each time, the reasoning has been well intentioned, but each time it has been really quite daunting. You know the feeling, you walk in to the changing rooms, not having a clue about where the lockers are and how they work, you try your best to get changed as quickly as you can, you have brought a sweat towel, but you forget to fish it out of your bag because you are trying desperately to look like you know what you are doing, ditto that with your bottle of water.
So you finally make it out of the changing room. Manoeuvre one, treadmill. What can possibly go wrong? On you step, trying to ignore the bronzed Adonis to your left who is merrily sprinting along in a pair of oversized headphones, not a bead of sweat on him, or the guy to your right who looks about 85 who is power walking his way to Timbuktoo (you clock the timer and think to yourself ‘how on earth has he kept that up for 1 hour 34 minutes already?’)
On you step. So many buttons! So many options! So many questions! I mean, of course it would have made sense to have stood on the scales before you even contemplated the machine, but hey, who was going to remember that under all that pressure?! Weight – hmm, kilograms…lets guess that. Height? About 5’9”…what’s that in centimetres then? Guess that one too. Start.
Ok, ok, that’s all well and good. However, one can’t just do a gentle amble on it, so up the speed goes. Bit more, bit more, bit more, OK that’s quite quick now. Can’t go down a notch; that would be like losing face. Keep going. Ouch, stitch. Style it out. How long have I been running? 3 minutes? Unbelievable. Ignore Adonis. He’s just ramped it up to hill climb. Git. OK get to 5 minutes. Wow, can I stop yet? No, keep going. Whack the blower on, that will help. Blower hasn’t helped. Stitch getting worse. Old bloke has broken into a jog. Easily got 50 years on me. I’m struggling. 7 minutes 30. OK, that’s enough. Warm down. Finish. Water…water…water. Walk away like Mr Soft. Can I go home yet?
If that resonates with you, then you have probably encountered similar situations. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the gym, but what I need is direction. I have always got on better when someone has talked me through things, and helped me design a program that matches my needs. I once had a session with a personal trainer who took me through a routine of workout that was tailored to me, including warm up, cardiovascular exercises, upper body and lower body conditioning and warm down.
It was a service such as that provided by Personal Trainer East London that really allowed me to get the best of my gym time. It is no surprise then that my most prolonged gym membership was preceded by some excellent personal advice.
So, if you are feeling the need to do some pre-Christmas shaping up, but you need some guidance or motivation to kick start it, I can certainly recommend that personal touch to get you into the workout groove!