Returning to the gym

It’s that time of the year for unused holidays to be rounded up and taken. The extra days off here and there during the past two months have been quite the treat for long weekends, mini breaks in the middle of a working week and week-long vacations at home. I’m seeing more of my room and rekindling journaling and meditation routines. 

With this free time, I’m consciously striking a few rounds at the gym. Each night I place my gym gear on the chair for me to see every time I arise. There’s no excuse for not going, my day is planned the moment my eyes fall upon the gear. It’s then I know in what direction my indecisive self is heading towards and it’s very simple: the gym.

There’s just so much I can say about this place, I once used to so proudly call it my second home pre covid time. It was the place where I felt great, happy, pumped up and energetically alive despite the wobbly legs that come with leg day. With great neglect, it soon became a forgotten zone in my life. Post-lockdown visits to the gym became once-in-a-blue-moon calls. I was just a visitor and not a resident of my second home. The visits were so sparse gaps would last for days or even weeks or sadly more. Somewhere along the line, I stopped counting because of the guilt of it all. I no longer recognised my home or (2019 old) me. When I’d hear others speak about their weekly visits and mention routines, regret would keep me silent. I had nothing to say. 

I became more and more determined from that moment on to turn things around. This year I decided it was going to be a no excuses, no guilt policy. I had to get my endorphins somehow. Returning more regularly to a routine I had fallen out of. I began by spending more time on the treadmill letting the minutes tick by, familiarity kick in and my comfort levels rise as each bead of sweat fell right off me. The feel of the workout was good, minus the first-day back muscle pains, I was prepared mentally for this. I knew at some point my muscles would tell me off and they had every right to.

My venture away from the treadmill expanded towards the weight machines. I picked lighter weights to begin with but my body would have none of it. Not challenging enough, going higher is what I’d do. Muscle memory had waited a long time for this.

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