The (Wannabe) Gym Rat

In high school, I competed on the Paddling, Volleyball, and Cross-Country teams throughout my four years at Hawaii Preparatory Academy (HPA). However, after Paddling season ended in January, 2015, I ceased all straining physical activity for another year.

The day is January 16th, 2016. I am a first-year at Pitzer College.

I sit in my neighbor, Beth’s room conversing with Beth and our friend Luisa. The topic of conversation is fitness. Luisa is talking about starting a new workout regimen. The conversation is as follows:

Luisa: “I think I’m gonna start this new workout regimen.”

Christian: “That sounds dope, can I do it with you? We can keep tabs on each other and all that good stuff.” (“all that good stuff” is basically referring to nothing, in this case. I have no idea what I am talking about here. My fatal flaw when it comes to physical health is that I expect spectacular results immediately and discontinue the process when I realize that is not happening.)

Luisa: “Yes.”

End of conversation.

Okay, it is seven in the morning on January 17th. I could not tell you what day of the week is because a) I don’t remember, and b) I’m too lazy to look it up.

I am up. I am ready to take on the day. I’ve got my gym clothes on and I think I look cute as hell.

Luisa arrives and we get started.

The breakdown of this workout regimen is as follows: Seven minute circuits and four circuits in a workout. That is twenty-eight total minutes if you’re having trouble counting.

Day 1: Leg Day

We’re doing a ton of squats and a ton of burpees and a ton of lunges.

Here’s something you, the reader, need to know about Luisa: She is fit as hell. She has been working out since she was about negative three years old, and she is not here to play games.

Here’s something you, the reader, need to know about me: I am quite competitive. I believe that my body can do things that it cannot. After not working out for a year, I assumed that I could jump back into it with no problems. I am trying to keep up with Luisa.

(Was this a mistake? I’m not gonna spoil it for you;)

Seven minutes.

In seven minutes I sit down three times and drink approximately twenty-two ounces of water.

In seven minutes I contemplate leaving four times.

After seven minutes, I do leave.

While sitting down on the rowing machine I tell Luisa that I need to go to the bathroom. I stand up and my vision turns black. The spins have hit. I think I’m gonna vomit. I trip over every word as I say “I’m actually gonna just go back to my room. I’m not feeling well.”

In a minute I’m in the gym’s bathroom.

In another minute I’m lying on the floor next to the toilet. I haven’t retched, and the spins subside after another minute.

My legs are on fire.

I live on the fourth floor of Pitzer Hall, and there is absolutely no way that I am going to walk up four flights of stairs. I proceed to walk around the building to take the elevator up.

My roommate decides to point out that I am drenched in sweat and that I have also only been gone for ten minutes.

I sit in the shower and cry for fifteen.

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