Don't Read the Fine Print

Or:  Ignorance Is Bliss
Or:  Why I Won't Be Going to the Y

In case you haven't heard, Leonard has started going to the gym again.  Well, two different gyms,...trying to find the right one.  And in case you don't remember, Leonard went to the gym once before.  If you want to read the boring reasons of why I'm trying a gym again, scroll to the bottom:

Two things to keep in mind while reading Leonard's Quest for Gym:

1. I'm cheap.
2. I'm lazy.

I don't want to spend a lot of money or really commit to anything.  And I don't want to travel too far out of my way to get to this place where I will sweat and smell bad.  Near me are two places that fit my requirements:  the YWCA and a Planet Fitness.  And at first glance, they appear to fit my very basic gym needs:  weight machines, some kind of cardio, locker rooms/showers.

I was wary of the Planet Fitness.  Was the location skeezy?  Would people be creepy?  Would it be dirty?  What's up with offering pizza and doughnuts at a gym?  So then I looked at the YMCA, but I couldn't find any prices whatsoever.  I did sign up for a Guest Pass, though, and it was delivered to my e-mail box with a note that "someone would be contacting [me] about a membership."  I printed off the pass, put on my big girl panties, and went someplace new and large and loud and scary to the YMCA.

The people were friendly enough, and I told them that I was interested in membership details, but still no one got back with me on that.  This particular facility is downright huge for a Y, and it was the hopping place to be at 6 p.m. on a weeknight.  It was busy, but not too crowded.  They had a lot of cardio equipment (treadmills, stairmasters, stationary bikes, etc.), some weights (the big, "manual" kind), and a smattering of weight machines.  I'd say they had only one of each type of weight machine, sometimes two; that, in turn, meant I had to wait for the weights sometimes (see what I did there?) or do something else and come back.

I spent 30-35 minutes on the treadmill, which was about 15 minutes too many; by the time I got down, I felt like I was floating all the way to the locker room and beyond.  When I got home, still breathless, my Unit commented,  "You look pale.  Like all the blood went straight to your heart."

It wasn't a bad experience, although I was disappointed that I couldn't find any pricing information online and that no one had contacted me about it.  The next day I decided I wanted to work out again (who AM I??!??), but my YMCA Guest Pass was only good for one day.

I looked at Planet Fitness again online, but I couldn't find any information about guest passes. I called them and was informed that a "day pass" costs twenty dollars ("but that fee is then applied to your membership if you sign up").  Then I tried to research more on the Y's website (give me dollars and prices, people!) when I stumbled across their Membership Handbook.  I was scrolling through the PDF file when I discovered page three under "Lockers":

"Use the gender appropriate locker room with which you legally identify."

Wow.  What if my legal status hasn't been changed/updated to reflect my gender identity?  What if I don't have an updated legal photo I.D. with my new name/gender?  While it's not as bad as North Carolina saying to use the biological sex on one's birth certificate, it's close.

And then I found under "Code of Conduct" this little gem:

"We take pride in our family friendly environment. Please keep attire appropriate and modest."

"Modest" according to whom?  What is "appropriate"?  Your family and my family may be entirely different.  If it's hot and I'm busting through my cardio, am I not allowed to wear capris and a sports bra?  My swimsuit probably shows cleavage because I have big boobs; is that going to offend your family's modest sensibilities?

Granted, those things did not happen to me in the hour that I was there, but the fact remains that they could.  The fact remains that the language alone made me very uncomfortable.  And when I told all of these things to my Unit, she pointed out the same thought I was having, "YMCA does stand for 'Young Men's Christian Association.'"

And that clinched it for me.  Off to Planet Fitness I went, despite the charge to try out the facility. Luckily for me when I showed up to the desk, the attendant was the same person I had spoken to earlier.  And she let me use the facility for free (without me asking) -- which practically guaranteed that I would sign up for a membership because I am a sucker for good customer service.

So there ya have it.  Reading the fine print will usually destroy your blissful ignorance and remind you of what those pesky abbreviations stand for.

Prologue:  Why a Gym?  Why Now?  And then I dislocated my knee (for the third time), so I stopped.  But after last September's adventure on a trapeze (yes, a real trapeze!), I decided I wanted to try more things, new things, fancy aerial things.  And I did aerial yoga for a while.  And I really enjoyed it (and didn't hurt myself).  But my schedule of rehearsals combined with crippling anxiety ("where have you been? why haven't you been here?) mean I haven't been there in months.  And when I looked, the class I had liked was no longer on the schedule.  Also I realized that yoga was not doing enough; I wasn't sweating enough, getting my heart rate high enough. 

But you know what did do those things?  Going to the gym.  But I no longer teach at a university with a fitness center, so now what?  Cue Leonard's search for a gym.

Adventures in New Things

First and foremost, Leonard's not dead!  Just really busy and really, really tired.  The first two weeks of school have passed by in a flash, and my head is still reeling.  So many new things!  New things can be exciting, sure, but they are also really, really scary.  And upsetting.  And mind-numbing.  And bad.

If you don't already know this, Leonard suffers from major social anxiety and panic attacks.  "But Leonard," you're saying, "you're an actor and a performer!  How can you have social anxiety??"  I could give a fairly in-depth response about the differences between performing in front of a captive audience versus being thrust into the middle of a crowd, but instead I'll just quote The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen:

 

"I'm complicated."

So new things can be very....interesting.  New places, new rules, new things = sensory overload.  For example, one of my least favorite things is trying out a new eating establishment.  Where do I order?  What all is on the menu?  Do I order here and then pay over there?  What sides does it come with?  Do I have to clean up after myself and put my tray away?  What are all those other people doing?  Let's watch them and see what they do first.

I'll actually start to get a tunnel-visioned, only able to see in front of me, almost no peripheral vision as I try to take it all in.

These first two weeks have included new places like that with me trying not to wander around aimlessly having a small mental breakdown.

New cafeteria:  I eat for free at one of the universities -- woohoo!  But it's a cafeteria -- chock full of things that cause me to hyperventilate.  Where do I go?  Oh here's a tray.  I'll take a tray.  Watch out for those people.  Don't run into them.  Don't let the students judge you.  Why is there a long line?  Do we all have to wait in line?  There must be good stuff there if everyone is waiting for it.  What if I don't like it?  Where are the plates?  I do eat for free, right??

The main cafeteria is "dine-in only."  There are no to-go bags or boxes.  But I couldn't figure out if that meant I could back in and get seconds (it's free!) if I wanted to.  So I literally sat at my table for five minutes, found a person who had already been eating, watched them stand up, and followed  them (with my eyes) as they went back in, got seconds, and came back to their seat with no repercussions.  I did the same thing when it came time to leave.  Where do I put this tray?  Is there a trash can?  What are all those other people doing?  Let's just watch them.  But casually, CASUALLY!!! Don't be a creeper.

Lather, rinse, repeat for each one of the dining establishments on campus.  There are four.

And then the REALLY new stuff:  working out at a gym.

Disclaimer:  Leonard has not been in a gym to, y'know, "work out," in over a decade.  So I've been wracking my brain trying to remember those things my ex-husband told me during the two times I went to the gym with him.

The first gym excursion was a bonafide clusterfuck.

I had plotted out my course, found the gym on the campus map, found my own location as well, and packed a bag with all my goodies (although I forgot a towel).  After teaching my class, I walked over the gym, trying to take deep, cleansing breaths, and signed in.  I asked the work study student at the front where the fitness center was, and she told me.  Then I asked where the locker rooms were, and she told me.  They were nowhere near the fitness center.

So I headed over the locker room to put my stuff.  Except every door over where it said "locker rooms" was locked (there were three).  So I said "fuck it" and headed to the fitness center, which is really just a glorified large room with some equipment in it.  I told that work study student that the locker rooms were locked.  She said, "Oh, they shouldn't be.  Bob the GA should be able to unlock them."

So I walked with her through the gym back to the front of the building to find Bob.  But we couldn't find Bob.  We did find a woman who works there (an adult this time), and told her we couldn't find Bob and that the locker room doors were locked.  She said, "Oh, I can unlock them!"  So then I walked with her back to the locker rooms.

"Doesn't your key work?" she asked me.

"I don't have a key," I said.  Hell, I don't even have an office at this institution.

"No, I mean your key card," she says.  And then I remember that our I.D.'s double as key cards.

"Oh, I don't know.  I didn't see one of those --" and I lamely imitate the swiping motion of the key card.

We get to the locker rooms, and she, too, realizes that only one door has the key card swiping thingie.  I try it.

No go.

She tries it.

Still no go.

She manages to  unlock one of the other doors, and I get a peek inside the locker room.

It's not a locker room like I remember.  It's a private locker room for one of the women's teams, complete with wood paneling and their names above their stuff.  Not what I had in mind at all.  I was at a loss.  Where was I supposed to put my stuff?  Where could I shower?

Turns out hardly anyone uses the locker rooms like that anymore (according to "Coach").  The office woman assures me that she can unlock the doors anytime for me if I ask her.  I thank her and head back to the fitness room.

I get on the treadmill and push some random buttons so I can walk quickly for 20-25 minutes.  As I walk on the treadmill, the once empty room starts to fill up with students who look like they actually know what they're doing.  I try to look like I know what I'm doing it.  I'm sweating a lot from walking around the entire complex during the Great Locker Room Clusterfuck of '13.  Plus it's a million degrees outside.  When I'm done on the treadmill, I head back to my car and drive all the way home so I can shower and maybe cry.  And nap.

End Result:  University #1's facilities suck.

Two days later, I repeat the process with the gym at University #2.  The night before, just like University #1, I do my research.  I find the facility on the campus map.  I plot my route.  I try to figure out as much as I can from what's available online.  Where do I go?  Do I sign in?  Do they provide towels, or do I have to bring my own?  Do they provide locks, or do I provide my own?  What kind of equipment is there?  Is it stuff I remember how to use?

University #2's facility is whole new world.  For starters, it takes up an entire first floor of a building.  There are several courts, a free weight room, a fitness center, and REAL locker rooms, complete with lockers and showers.  All of that is a sigh of relief.  I put my stuff away and head to the space with the exercise machines and treadmills.  I try to keep focused, even though I'm getting tunnel-visioned from all the new stuff.

Just find the treadmills.  We know treadmills.  Don't do anything besides treadmills today.  Don't wanna overdo it.

I find a treadmill, and it's state of the art.  I could even plug my iPhone into it if I wanted to.  I could watch TV on an individual screen if I wanted to.  I just want to walk quickly and listen to my iPod and zone out for a bit.  So I push some random buttons in an attempt to mimic my fast-walking from the day before at University #1.

But no.  This fancy new  treadmill does more than just let me walk fast.  It changes.  It changes the incline and the speed on my "route."  Suddenly it's moving quickly and I desperately try to find the button to slow it down before I pull a George Jetson in front of students who could very well be MY students.   

I keep up the best I can.  I sweat and I breathe hard.  When I'm done, I step off the treadmill and try not to pass out.  The floor still feels like it's moving, and my head is reeling.  Just make it to the locker room.  Just make it to the locker room.  I can shower in the locker room.  Don't pass out in the gym.  Don't trip in front of students.

I text my Unit from the locker room:  "220 calories and 29 minutes on the treadmill.  I feel a little dizzy."

Her response:  "Slow down, cowgirl!"

That shower was the best shower I ever had.  When it was over and I was dressed, I headed to cafeteria #2 to repeat that process all over again of figuring out how to eat.

It's been two weeks, and I think I may have figured out a routine.  Sort of.  I've added some other exercise equipment into the mix; each time I get a little tunnel-visioned as I try to read the pictures and instructions on the machines.  A lot has changed in ten years in the wide world of fitness.  As usual, I don't want to ask questions of the work study students in an attempt to keep the number of times I look like an idiot to a minimum.  I think I've done okay; I've only "wandered" the entire fitness center looking around once.  Okay, maybe twice.  I've also lost two pounds.

Some of the heart-pounding anxiety has lessened, and I no longer feel like I'm going to die in the locker room.  But is it any wonder I slept for fifteen hours last night?

End Result:  New things are exhausting; change is bad.

Monica Waters: You don't like change, do you?
Adrian Monk: I have no problem with change. I just don't like to be there when it happens.