A month ago, Rach and I joined a gym. I’ve never been any good at these things.
I tried a gym once when I was nineteen, and it was a disaster. I would put my headphones on and stride into the place like I saw the guys in the movies do, and just start loading up the weights. After three dumbbell curls my arms hurt too much to lift them, and a few leg presses later I was exhausted. I didn’t have a trainer or anything, and I didn’t know how to ask for help, so five minutes in, I’d be packing up to leave. And that was really my only experience with gyms.
That, and the time I was hit on in the gym pool by a much older man. Being alone and wearing very little, while a large hairy stranger describes how attractive he finds my body, was definitely a strong reason to never, ever return.
Anyway, 20-odd years later I'm trying again, and this time everything is better. Rach and I would go together, our own little team, every second morning at 7am. There were no monster heavyweights strutting about looking down on us, no spectacularly beautiful bodies demanding that we go harder and faster and better and one day we'll look like them. There were just everyday humans in pretty good shape high-fiving and encouraging us to do our best, but not so much that we throw up. It's been really great.
This morning, halfway through the session, I noticed something that's probably quite obvious to everyone else. I was hanging from a bar, trying to lift my knees up to my chest for the fortieth time, sweat running down my face like acid rain, and I realised that all of this, really... hurts.
Like, every moment of our 50-minute session involved some kind of pain, each muscle group getting their chance to endure a bit of hell as we moved around each station. Swinging from that bar, I looked around the room, and each face wore its own version of agony. There were grunts, gasps, panting, the occasional expletive. Everyone was feeling it. Actual pain, and the worst thing is, we had all chosen it for ourselves.
I got my knees up that last time, and dropped to the floor with a little "oof," and crawled over to the burpee station. Before I had a chance to think anymore, I was off on a new journey of pain.
I do know how exercise works. We exert some effort and the endorphins kick in and then we experience some kind of "high." Honestly, I haven't felt the high yet, which means I may not be pushing myself enough or something, but what I really, really appreciate is what happens to my mind during that hour:
When we start the workout, the rest of the world, with all of its pressure, anxiety, uncertainty, and busyness, fades away. Our attention is completely present, in this moment of our next breath, nothing beyond the routine before us. We're not forecasting or fearing the future. We're not retrieving or regretting the past. We're not processing intellectual arguments or emotional conundrums or responsibilities or anything else.
Within this 50-minute timeframe, we are at peace. There is pain, but there is also peace.
And for me, I also feel a sense of freedom. Which is strange, considering the amount of restrictions and limitations that the workout demands, but nonetheless, I feel free. By choosing the path, by clicking "attend session" on the app, I create an oasis for my mind, a reprieve from the overwhelm. For one hour, the entire world is held back. It can go wait for me over there, by the door, while I do my thing.
Stories are often crafted around a three-act structure, where Act 1 pushes a character into the conflict, Act 2 describes all the conflict and transformation, and Act 3 wraps it all up with a resolution and ultimate transformation (for better or worse).
The interesting thing about Act 1 is how difficult it is for the character to make that first decision, the one that forces them into the big story. It's a comfort-or-conflict choice, and the rest of the story hinges on the answer. But, once the decision has been made, the work begins and the character doesn't struggle with that choice anymore: life is too exciting now.
I feel like that with these workout, and I often feel like that with the rest of life. It's the hardest thing to click "do it!" on the app, and lock myself in to a session, but once I have, my mind relaxes, and I just go and do the work.
After the decision, there is peace.
Within the limitations, there is freedom.
Though there is pain, there is also pride, and transformation.
I'm absolutely not an exercise junkie yet, and I still dislike pain. But, I'm finding myself more and more looking forward to these sessions, and will even tap "yes" to them now with a tiny bit of joy.