Before I left for an overnight business trip to Tampa two weeks ago, I signed up for a gym membership through work with the rationale that the minute I returned I would dive headfirst into pre-training for the Mini. My plan for the next few weeks involves experimenting with all the different aspects of training to smooth out out any potential kinks, everything from keeping pace on a treadmill to defining "cross-training" within the running community. Come the third week in January, I want all of my fears surrounding the logistical aspects of training to be laid to rest so that I'm not thrown off-track by something like operating equipment at the gym. No anxiety over the unfamiliar, no distractions, just me concentrating on my goal.
Except that I never actually made it to the gym. Of course, there was always a perfectly valid reason not to go: waking up late, errands after work, Christmas shopping to do, blah blah blah. Then last night I realized that hey! All these excuses aren't doing my training (or my waistline) any favors. Throw into the mix that I'm standing up in a wedding in September and shopping for bridesmaids dresses commences in four short weeks, and voila! Instant mental kick in the pants.
So on Sunday night I decided that this was the week to get the proverbial ball rolling. Despite the upcoming holiday and consequent onslaught of goodies sure to blanket every surface of my office (who recommits to health and fitness BEFORE the New Year?), despite hosting my sister's family the previous weekend, despite getting under the covers at a quarter to one. This was the week. Monday was the day.
When I set my alarm for just four hours later, though, I had my doubts. Luke was also concerned.
"Maybe you should just push it off until after work," he said. "I can take care of the kids through dinner and even do bedtime."
It was tempting, but too late. My work clothes and shower gear had been stuffed into a backpack. Lunch was made. The iPod was loaded. A padlock had been located for securing my cubby in the locker room. I'd even outlined a brief schedule to account for every major chunk of time between leaving the house and arriving at my office. An extra twenty minutes of sleep after all that careful planning wouldn't add enough to my day to justify skipping the workout, I reasoned. More importantly, the longer I waited to get to the gym, the less likely I was to follow through.
"I'll set the alarm and see what happens," I said. "If I'm too tired, I'll wait. But at least I want to try."
And I did try, first at 4:40 a.m. when my alarm started beeping, then again at five. I felt Luke's warm body next me, sensed the presence of Kara's feet near my hips, and thought how nice it would be to cuddle as a family a little while longer. But I got up, anyway, and thirty minutes after my feet left the mattress, I was following a 5K loop on the treadmill. I ran 3.1 miles in under 35 minutes, gave myself a hearty pat on the back, and made my way down to the locker room, where I would shower and get ready for work.
This is where things get interesting.
Now, I don't consider myself a prude by any means, but when it comes to getting dressed in front of people who either a) don't share my DNA or b) didn't contribute to the conception of my children, I'm a little shy. Love handles, tire gut, back fat--these are parts of my body I'm not exactly excited to show the rest of the world; in fact, I prefer taking any steps necessary (short of surgery) to give society the faulty impression that I am absent of any of these physical flaws. I don't wear bikinis or low-rise jeans, and unless it's a ring-collar tee-shirt, I never wear a top without sporting a control-top shaper underneath. An argument could be made, I suppose, that I should be happy with my body as is and that hiding my natural shape is a slap in the face to women's lib, but ladies, there's nothing natural about my back fat. Not when it consists of french fries, cheeseburgers, and ice cream, and certainly not when, with a moderate dose of healthy eating and exercise, I can make it disappear. Which I totally plan to do. It's just taking some time.
(Plus, my high school may be the only one in North America where showering after gym class wasn't required. There were showers for that purpose, yes, but the instructor always ended class a few minutes before the bell, so there wasn't enough time to clean up without being late for your next class, and washing the stench from your arm pits wasn't a valid excuse for tardiness. And in going to the gym as an adult in years past, I either went after quitting time or, if it was in the morning, went back home to get ready for work. Granted, I did go back and forth from my dorm room to the community showers on my floor wearing only a towel, but I was 18 then, and too blissfully young to be appropriately insecure.)
Anyway, where was I? The locker room. Right. Long story short, I am not a fan of changing in the locker room. But the gym is closer to my job than it is to my house, so overall, getting dressed there is definitely the best solution.
It was around six-thirty that I started pulling out my shower things, and overall activity at the gym was still pretty low. Still, I debated the best plan of action for even getting to the shower. Should I strip down now and just wear my towel or walk over in my sweaty running clothes and strip inside the stall? In the end, I stripped in the stall because the idea of soaking my clean towel with perspiration just didn't seem right to me.
The actual shower was uneventful, even pleasant because the water pressure was good and there weren't any children trying to climb their way in (though I did make a note to purchase some cheapie rubber flip-flops because the ones I had on featured cloth lining and probably weren't intended for full-on H2O immersion). Once I was all cleaned up, I wrapped my towel around my chest, grabbed my clothes from off the floor, and made my way back to my locker, where business casual attire and my trusty black shaper awaited.
At first I was the only woman there, but the thought that somebody could join me any minute kept me from ever letting my guard down. I cursed the length of my towel as it constantly slipped from my grasp, holding it in place with my chin as I slipped on my underwear, then cinching it around my waist by leaning into my backpack so I could quickly fasten my bra. It wasn't until my pants were on and the shaper was in place that I could fully relax and go through the rest of my routine without feeling so self-conscious. And even then I was on edge, as I kept dashing back and forth between my locker and the sink to retrieve my moisturizer, Q Tips, and hair spray.
The more times I do this, going to the gym before work, the more natural it will become, and I won't always care about another female catching an eyeful of thigh. I know this. That's why I'm in pre-training now, so that I can overcome my silly inhibitions and fears before they have a chance to negatively impact my regimen. I've run on a trail and in my neighorbood, in rain, shine, and below-freezing temperatures. I've run on a treadmill. I signed up for a gym and got my first time out of the way, and I'll get a tour of the equipment this Saturday. I earned a $50 gift card to Dick's Sporting Goods for my level of participation (four to five events) in my company's racing circuit, so I'll be getting better workout clothes. And soon I'll have a training program. The pieces are falling into place. It won't be long before they're all working together.
What about a thin cotton robe for the gym? It shouldn't take up much space, and then you can wiggle on much of your clothing underneath. It took me a while to be comfortable in the locker room too, but it will get better!
Congratulations on your dedication!
Posted by: Chaya | December 23, 2009 at 03:44 PM
You won't feel so bad about yourself once you've seen mulitple ladies over the age of 55 hanging out nude, chatting it up, in the locker room! EEK!!
Posted by: Shawnna | December 23, 2009 at 03:45 PM
I love the HS comment :-) I don't think anyone used those showers -- didn't they store old fans in there at one time?
All of your talk about running again is almost pushing me to the point of signing up for my first 5K.
Posted by: Dannielle | December 23, 2009 at 05:07 PM
Your inhibitions are not silly! Totally normal and we all have them. I never showered in high school gym class either, no one did and you couldn't have paid me enough to get into those grimy old unventilated stalls. I didn't get used to naked until the year I was obsessed with bikram's (hot, sweaty) yoga and showers were simply not an option. Now I'm fine with naked! Mangled breastfeeding nipples and all:)
Posted by: eva | December 23, 2009 at 05:12 PM
I liked the stalls at the gym I used to go to (like 5 years ago). They had two compartments so you could undress and redress ebfore entering the actual locker room area. But, when that wasn't an option (in college), I would stuff my underwear and bra in my toiletry bag and put those on before leaving the shower. Then I didn't feel so bad about exposing parts of my body (although I still kepts the towel around me until I was dressed).
Posted by: AJU5's Mom | December 23, 2009 at 05:56 PM
Good job on the start. Thinking out the pre-training was a good plan. Keep a balance with enough sleep. The body needs to rebuild to get stronger.
Posted by: daddyd | December 23, 2009 at 06:31 PM
I'm the same way about getting nekkid in front of strangers. When I used to go to the university gym, a professor I worked with once carried on an entire conversation with me while buck-naked STRADDLING A BENCH! That's just not ok.
Posted by: Jen L. | December 23, 2009 at 08:42 PM
I miss understood a nurse one time who was asking me to lift up my shirt so she could attach some monintors and I took off my shirt instead. She told me she really didn't need me to take off the shirt but I told her I am a mom, ever since the doctor delivered the baby I have accepted that my body is no longer my own and if someone doesn't like what they see, they don't have to look. Besides they will know you are working hard at being fit when they can see those parts melt away, you might inspire someone to try harder.
Posted by: Crystal Young | December 24, 2009 at 08:49 AM
Wait...some high schools actually have you shower after gym? ;)
In no way are you a prude - simply normal.
Posted by: Jenny | December 25, 2009 at 03:01 AM
Merry Christmas!
Posted by: Jenny | December 25, 2009 at 03:02 AM
Congrats on getting started! I'm like you -- I guess some would call me a prude, but I can't get down with changing in front of complete strangers, either.
We also never had to shower after gym. They even built in showers when they built a new gym, but nobody ever used them. Not that they gave us enough time for that, anyway.
Posted by: Fraulein N | December 28, 2009 at 10:30 AM
Never comment - but I KNOW this one! Here's the secret: Two towels. One worn normal, one around your shoulders.
Underwear, then pants, then bra, then undershirt, then shirt. Adjust towel A and towel B as needed.
I swam and showered at the gym until I was 9 months pregnant and girl there was no way I was dangling my preggo junk all over that locker room. And I was so big that I had to bring my own super sized towels. But with two, you can totally get entirely dressed from being totally nude without so much as giving the tiniest peep show.
Also - no one there cares even a little :)
Posted by: Muddy | December 28, 2009 at 09:05 PM
I'm always way more preoccupied hiding my own girly bits than to even have time to glance at anyone else's back fat.
Once I get my underwear and pants on, I just turn toward the locker as much as possible to put on bra and top. A little side boob shot never hurt anyone :)
Posted by: Liz | December 29, 2009 at 01:25 PM