Jenny On the Spot

Background: I am easily intimidated. Bigger people, fitter people, pretty people, smarter people, British-accent people (they sound smarter to me), buff people, self-important people, boss people, moms who act like they are your kids’ boss people… I, shall we say, “enjoy” the latter group the very least.

I digress. Let me go back to “buff people”. More specifically, I am writing of buff people in gyms. Trim people in gyms. Even more specifically - the weight room of The Gym. In here you find people who appear to be as comfortable in the weight room as they might be in their own living room - of mirrors! No where else on earth - except for at the county fair, can one find a room of mirrors. Creepy.

Three reasons why I don’t like the Weight Room:

1. Mirrors. Like I need to see so many stinkin’ angles of my booty, back, arms, legs and stomach. Crimony! Furthermore, like anyone else needs be put through that! Poor innocent people. I find I close my eyes and hope I don’t whack myself in the head just so I don’t have to watch me being miserable or anyone else.
2. Sounds. People emote such sounds! Didn’t they have a mother! Grunting, moaning, wheezing… It’s like a day at the Coliseum in Rome. More or less.
3. Buff people. I wonder how dumb I appear trying to negotiate those machines. Let’s face it, it’s not like they can’t see me - It! Is! A! Room! Of! MIRRORS!

For these reasons, I have long avoided the weight room at my gym. I don’t fit there… neither in body nor vocal emoting. At least I didn’t think I did. Until. Today…

You see, I finally decided to brave the weight room. The pump class times weren’t working out, and my poor arms were just flopping about as I ran and elipted and biked. My arms needed attention. I knew they’d find help in The Weight Room. I learned that the fewest members of the “Intimidate Jenny Club” use the weight room early in the morning. So, 3 weeks ago, I entered the inner sanctum of fear… before dawn’s early light. Truly.

Today was a marker day. I surprised myself (and embarrased myself). I emoted. It was grunt-like. I didn’t plan it, and certainly didn’t expect it. It came at the end of 2 - 20 count reps. I had pushed it - I allowed too much weight, and the end was pushing me. There were only 2 reps left, and by golly if I was gonna quit with 2 reps! So I pushed painfully through one, and as the last was on the horizon… Push. Push. Push. I pushed through with a grunt and some heavy breath.

It was almost like birthing a child. Lamaze anyone?

So, I did it. I emoted loudly. Unintended. The sound came with a new understanding of the noises I hear in that room. I still don’t like it, and will repress, repress, repress… but I get it now. OK, I get why the noises are there, but I still don’t get why some of those people just let it all out. THAT still creeps me out.