I joined a local gym last week near my house and my purpose is to improve fitness. I am not overweight anything but my job requires me to spend the entire day sitting at my desk, so there is hardly any physical effort required.
I have joined a gym a couple of times in the past as well, but never been able to stick with the routines due to the hectic schedules at work. But this time, it is quite different as it takes me only five minutes to reach the new gym.
After the first four days spent enjoying cardio routine such as treadmill, cycling, etc. it was finally on the fifth day that fate slipped on the misery gloves. After 15 minutes of enjoying a treadmill run, I was asked to do the one exercise I hated the most: Push-ups. Not that I am too physically unfit – I’ve been quite athletic throughout my life – push-ups and I don’t go well together.
“Three sets if twelve each,” screamed the instructor.
“Ha! We’ll see,” I screamed back but only in my mind.
I moved to an undisturbed area on the gym floor and got down on my hands and stretched back my feet.
“One,” “Two,” “Three,”
Wow! Going great.
“Four,” “Five,” “Six”
It’s becoming tougher by the second.
“Seven……” “Eight……………..”
Perseverance, my boy. It will get you places.
“Nine…………” Huff huff! Seems like my face is going to explode.
“Ten……” “Eleven…………………..” “Twelve!!!!!!!”
I did it. Euphoria. One set knocked over.
Oh No, two more to go!
The remaining two sets were short-lived, Six and Four.
After this, the instructor rallied me around for another hour of grilling exercises for chest, back, biceps, triceps, abs and what not. Finally, when I was allowed to leave, I was so worn out that I couldn’t even drive back home properly.
Next day turned out to be even worse with my first set of push-ups allowing me only 3 and the second set only saw me go down the without coming back up ever again. After a lot of trying to convince the instructor, I was allowed to proceed with the remaining exercises. Yippee!!
But everything else was also horribly below the dismal standards from the day before. From that night onwards, I have been in a state of constant pain of my muscles, or the sort that I cannot describe in words than to say that 48 hours have passed since that second session (yesterday was a rare day off) and I still can’t even lift a cup of tea and bring it to my mouth. I can’t sleep well at nights or turn in the bed without moaning in pain. I can’t even put on my jacket quickly enough.
And today, just as I am about to publish this post, I am again ready to head for the gym. I hope my cruel instructor has some mercy on me today.
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Diwali is here. Its that time of the year when we all get together with our families and loved ones and celebrate India’s grandest festival. I am not religious at all, neither do I really care about the story behind Diwali. The only thing I care about is that it is an occasion that brings families and loved ones together. I enjoy lighting candles and diyas, decorating our houses, buying new clothes, nice food, and the company of my favourite people.
Confessions of a Disquisitive Writer 