The moment your paunch is in the nascent stage, people starting reacting differently to you. The ‘end of conversation hi-fives’ are replaced with punches to your stomach(Some people punch with a “Dish Dish Bush Bush” bgm). This is when you realize your inchoate paunch is in a precarious position, enclosed in a dangerous world, filled with Mike Tysons who have a desire to punch your stomach(without the ear biting propensity). Anyway, the formation of the paunch(thoppai in Tamil and probably Hoppai in Kannada) is cue to begin your exercise regime.
Enrolling in a gym is the next thing most of us do. I naively paid for a 1 year scheme like an guileless non-techie uncle getting himself an “unlimited broadband upto 2GB” connection. I was given a trainer who would oversee my progress(the lack of it rather) over the next year. The last thing that a malingerer like me wanted was a strict trainer inflicting physical strain on me.
The gym was a weird sight at first. There was so much steel lying around, worth blocking a giant road and citing “Metro rail construction. Please copulate” in Indian signboard language. Apparently every workout at the gym starts with a stretching machine that has a handle in the shape of an 8. You need to insert your hands and legs into the ‘8’ in different combinations and get yourself stretched. I unswervingly forgot the sequence every-time I tried that. And yes, “Find the number of ways you could entangle yourself in that stretching machine” could be a worthy AIEEE problem. In case you are stuck and entangled in the machine, there is a way to lift the manual with your leg that guides you to disentangle yourself.
The next thing that I had to do was cycling. Except that the cycle was a stationary object, defeating the entire purpose of the wheel. Probably they did not want to re-invent the wheel, so they purged it. You keep cycling, nothing happens, only a digital meter responds with a beep. As you keep repeating that for the next half hour or so, you start questioning the entire purpose of it. Probably they could attach some sort of purpose to it, like the cycle could lead down a path to Koyembedu market where we could get some vegetables for the day and return back with a packet of milk.Gives you a sense of gratification atleast.
And then the trainer asked me to run on a treadmill. He asked me to run on a steep plane which kept pushing me off it. I felt like being stuck on badly written recursive code and I was about to throw up as a result of overflow. The trainer stopped the machine and gave me two minutes to breathe.
Your exercise in a gym is kept count of in sets. The trainer mentioned that a set was 20 repetitions and was variable too. This was probably the gym’s own version of set language, the only thing slightly involving a slight use of the brain at the place. However there are no Venn diagrams(that the trainer is a Vennai is a different thing).
And then came the pushups. The trainer, in a gross violation of human rights, wanted me to do 2 sets of it. So far, the only two sets that I could easily complete were 2 sets of Puris. The pushup experience was the closest I came to being coerced for information. As I subjected myself to the harrowing experience of lifting myself from the ground, the trainer kept himself busy adjusting the angle of my spine, my legs and my hands, in what seemed like an attempt to disprove Pythagoras theorem.
After this, I spent the last few minutes lifting unnecessary weights for sometime and keeping them back in the tray. Again, I do not understand why. Finally, I signed the timesheet, the sign of bloody corporate invasion into every stream of life, and ran off . From then on, very cleverly I have been escaping gym sessions and deceiving them. Now all they have is my money.
I decided to try out Yoga next. However I am not quite sure if I could stand upside down and touch my forehead with my own toes.
P.S: I presume this post is offensive to gym equipment. Sorry ok.
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