After school, one day this semester, I was motivated to go to the gym. I was encouraged to go to the student recreation center, the name a college gives a gym in the hope that more students will come to it, after a physical fitness class I took and also because I needed some gym time. Nonetheless, I found myself at the entrance to the place where one can find judgment, but also hope and confidence. Because I am not willing to look for help, I am a struggling strong willed individual, I began to assert an air of confidence the moment I entered the building. I assumed such an air because, after a certain incident, I have found that generally the gym staff will not come up to you if you act like you understand what you’re doing. If this means pretending that I am writing something down on a piece of paper as I try to read the weight lifting machine instructions, then so be it. Anyway, after checking in at the front desk, I grabbed a towel and headed to the girls side of the gym, the treadmill side. I generally make sure to grab a towel every time, because I tend to perspire more than most girls when I exercise, so a towel helps the gym personnel know that I am not going to contaminate the gym machine with my sweat. (As a side note: The first day I went to this gym I was asked, in a judgmental way, if I wanted a towel, as perspiration was running in streams off of my skin.) So, as I assumed my position on the girl’s side of the gym, I couldn’t help notice how toned most of the girls were and how natural they looked as they ran for thirty minutes. Their where in perfect momentum and their heads hardly moved as they turned the pages of their books or switched songs on their I-pods. In stark contrast, I run in an awkward manner, I have a hard time with coordination, I sweat profusely, and my face tends to get extremely red- a family characteristic. Due to the above, I end up looking like an uncoordinated, out of shape person, who is about to have a heart attack at the age of nineteen. To say the least, this seems to draw the attention of the individuals exercising next to me, although this may just by my imagination. I say this because it seems like my fellow exercisers heads turn too frequently to observe me and I always get this sort of concerned look by passer by’s when my face gets red. Anyway, after exercising for thirty minutes on the girl’s side of the room, I moved over to the boy’s side so that I could do some weight lifting exercises, it is my goal to be able to lift a cooler without getting tired- an ample goal. When it comes to the men, I generally only see one or two in the cardio section of the gym, but I do see about fifteen or so in the weight section, or men’s section. I had never really understood this, but after much research, I have found that men feel a certain confidence when they can lift a lot of weight. So, it seems that men feel that working your heart is not as important as working your arms. On the flip side, due the over population of men, rarely do any women cross the invisible line to the men’s side of the room, unless it has to do with leg weights. Therefore, only a brave few build up enough courage to go over to the “other side.” As I made my way over to the “other side” and tried out my first machine, I could not help but notice the unbelieving stares. After using my tactic of writing something down while reading the instructions, I climbed onto the machine and prayed that I was doing it right. Thankfully, during this gym period, there was no impromptu instruction time and I left to await another day. My only hope is that someday my face will stop turning red while I exercise, but I guess it is just another lesson in become less self conscious. So, it seems that for now, the gym is a place that I fear but also that holds much hope of strength and confidence, that is if I go again…
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