3.5.98

I have joined a gym.

It's pretty cool -- I've gone twice and I'm sore as hell. I have found muscles in my back, shoulders, chest and feet that I didn't know I had. Actually, I probably never had them so this should be interesting.

Shopping for a gym is a tedious task making it really easy to procrastinate. You've got to look up the places and determine which is which so you don't show up at Senior's Aqua-cize going, "So, what kind of Power Step classes to you offer?" Since GTE has yet to send us a phonebook I relied on the power of Zip 2 to tell me what was nearby.

If you haven't used Zip 2 you really need to check it out. It's pretty amazing. You type in your home address (or something nearby) and then type in the type of business you're looking for or the exact business name it then gives you the address and phone number of that location or locations. You then take that information and get specific driving directions from your front door to theirs. I don't know how effective this is in small towns but for cities it seems pretty damn cool. (Disclaimer: I do not work for or with Zip 2 and have no relationship with the employees of said company.) The other day I used it to find my way to a job interview and once I got the address I searched for coffee shops nearby in case I got there early and needed some place to cool my heels. Oh what a geek am I.

I got a list of gyms in the area and began calling. I went through this process up in Portland and everyone I called was more than willing to answer all my questions over the phone. Here it must be a little competitive. None of the places I called would talk prices over the phone beyond mentioning that they were having a super deal going on right now. All of them, without fail, took my full name and phone number before letting me talk to the person authorized to answer my sensitive fitness questions.

I settled on three that sounded pretty good and T. and I headed out. First stop, L.A. Fitness. This is one of those generic chains where the walls are always white, the floors always gray and the equipment is usually white and purple. There must be some market study on that. It was a fairly nice gym and had just about everything. I thought that what I wanted to do was Aerobics.

I took Aerobics in college and, while I didn't necessarily love it, it was the only thing that I could keep up with fitness-wise. I need that person barking directions and the other people to look exasperated if you stop or pass out. I wish I loved exercise, I really do. I had been a steady size 6 from eighth grade until my sophomore year in college where my metabolism apparently just stopped. I wouldn't say that I'm fat, not publicly anyway, but I am definitely unfit. So, this is my goal -- to get fit. Of course, I'm not averse to losing a few pounds, it would probably make my wedding dress look better.

Anyway, Kevin greeted me at L.A. Fitness. Good 'old Kev. Before I could even go on my "tour" I had to fill out some form which, of course, required me to list my address so I'm sure I'll be harassed through some evil, direct-mail marketing scheme. Kev is one of those nightmare gym salesmen: short and stocky with a fake-n-bake tan and a lush head of hair styled in that special, son-of-the-company-president, way. This look is intended to exude healthfulness and attract the ladies faster than you can say "crabcake" (which is different than beefcake if you get my drift).

Kev had all the lingo down and was trying really hard to make me feel like one of his pals. Unfortunately, I was being difficult and I think this unnerved him a little. For some reason his big, toothy, Mentadent grin just wasn't producing giggles and smiles from me.

Poor Kev.

The gym did look nice and clean and spacious and definitely do-able. The other thing standard about L.A. gyms is that they want you to sign up that day and will offer special deals to get you to do so. I told Kev that I was shopping around but that the gym looked lovely and that I was very impressed. He stared at me. I said that I hoped to have a decision by the end of the day. He kept staring. I stared back. He got this weird look on his face. I didn't flinch. Finally, I said thanks and forced a handshake.

On the way to the car, T. remarked, "I love that sad salesman puppy-dog look."

Is that what that was about? I thought Kevvy-boy was passing a stone.

Next stop, the Marina Athletic Club. Even though it was the middle of the day the place was packed. I was told over the phone to ask for "Paul." So, I did and sat and waited and filled out the proper form. While waiting a steady stream of what appeared to be gay men and singer/model/actress/waitresses bounced in and through the turnstile. That was an odd thing -- why do they need a turnstile at the front door? Perhaps, it was some sort of humiliation device for the less-than-anorexic. Or, maybe it's to prevent a mad rush of endorphin junkies from overwhelming the lobby capacity.

I get irritated at turnstiles. What's up with turnstiles at the supermarket? Sorry, you can only access the groceries through this door and you must pass the all-knowing, all-powerful turnstile. My university had turnstiles at the library entrance that kept count of the number of people coming in the door. Every turn of the stile meant a turn of the counter. So, at least there's the illusion of a bigger purpose.

Paul eventually emerged and he said, "Why are you waiting for me?"

"Because I was told on the phone to ask for you."

"Oh."

He sends out this wiry woman who looks like a white Yoko Ono. She takes me on the thrill-a-minute tour and quickly runs out of things to say. The Marina Athletic Club looks like a real gym -- none of this namby-pamby, purple and white crap. Again, we get the push to buy that day but Yoko doesn't try the sad puppy act.

T. and I are pleased with what we have seen so far. Of course, T. is an advertiser's wet dream. He really liked L.A. Fitness when we left and then he really liked the Marina Athletic Club. Put anything in front of his face and he's likely to buy or at least try. While I am baffled by this attitude, I find it a little refreshing. It's one of the many ways we are different. I think men are more inclined to take the raccoon approach to daily living -- drawn to any and all shiny objects.

Final stop, Bodies in Motion.

Bodies in Motion is all about trend. They have instructional classes on Boxing, Kickboxing, Mui Thai, Power Yoga in addition to aerobics, "Road Racing" and others. We are greeted and given a tour by overly enthusiastic, surfer-dude Paul.

Anyway, to make a short story long, I chose Bodies in Motion which was actually the most expensive of the three. They offered T. a month free to try it out with me since he's already got a gym but, being a guys-guy, he needs to Box. I've been to two classes and it's a great workout. There are lots of women in the class and, in fact, the clientele is about 70% women.

I was really nervous about starting this but it is for that reason that I need to do it. It's the same reason I needed to learn to Scuba dive. I guess it's all in the challenge. I'm hoping after a few weeks I'll be noticing some buff -- if I don't die from the muscle agony first.