My Ultimate Fitness Journey — The Beginning
A Fictional Satire
“Look at yourself in the mirror. No way! I can’t live any longer with you”, I said to myself, getting up from the bed after scrolling down Insta for 2 hours after a nice little siesta.
With a sense of urgency, I thrust my right hand in and out of the pocket of the extremely baggy trouser I was wearing, my phone tagging along with my hand on its way out.
In a swift motion, my forefinger gave the slightest touch on a small ridge on the phone’s rear side, and there it was— all vulnerable and unlocked. My eyes were searching for a colourful “G” on the matte finished screen. Freakishly quick as an eagle, they spotted their target. My thumb deftly followed and tapped on it and I hastily typed in the letters “Best gyms nesr mw”. Thankfully, Google was always known to be quite understanding.
A couple of them gyms popped up, within a kilometre radius.
There was an awesome one near my house — good reviews, great ratings and a comment from the truly grateful gym owner that said “Anyone who gives a good review will be rewarded with a protein shaker.”
The best part was that it was only a 5 minute walk from my house. “Too good” I thought, as I quickly opened Uber and booked a cab to the gym.
Stepping down out of the cab, I faced a huge Fig tree that seemed to be enjoying the wind. The empty spaces between the green leaves and greyish branches of the tree were filled with a beautiful brick-red. As I turned my gaze a little to the side, I realised the red came from a large two storey building with the entire right half covered with black glass panes in which I was able to see myself, a couple of folks walking behind me and a building beyond them. Hung from two slightly rusted rods protruding from the building was a big wooden board, covered with a bright yellow and a few strokes of mild orange here and there, which had on it a couple of big, bold and black letters that read “THE ULTIMATE FITNESS CENTRE”. Yes — ULTIMATE — exactly the kind of fitness centre that I needed to be in. I took in a deep breath, shaped my mouth into an O and exhaled it all out with a weak but high pitched whistle and started walking towards the door.
It was a heavy black door. There were some basic standards of strength even for entering the place. Anyway, I struggled and pushed through to find myself in the reception, bent down with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath again. Once I recovered, I straightened myself and looked to my side. A fair person with thick glasses dressed in a light blue formal shirt was sitting in front of a computer; between him and the computer was an orange Lays packet open.
Orange Lays — it’s my favourite flavour. I can never understand why Rahul doesn’t like it. It’s sweet and spicy. Is there a better combo for potato chips?! Although I agree that if there’s something that’s binge-eatable it’s the yellow one — the classic salted potato chips. A thick saliva started accumulating in my mouth as I thought about all of this.
“Hello sir! Good evening!” disturbed the chubby receptionist, in an overly humble manner.
I gave an awkward smile in return, the kind that you give when you need to smile at the person you are judging. I told him that I wanted to take a look around in the gym.
Giving a big nod, he walked from his station to a door behind him, held it open and told me to feel free to step in and check the place out.
Clenched teeth, dripping sweat, shaking bodies, glistening muscles and rattling weights — the sight I caught as I bent my head forward trying to take a peek, before shyly stepping in.
The gym was filled with the fragrance of discipline and diligence, of grit and resolve. An enormous guilt swallowed me; I’m not working as hard as I could and should. I have wasted many years chasing stupid pleasures, I realised as I was walking through the gym trying not to stare at anyone.
A loud grunt from the deadlift corner pierced my eardrums. Yes, I know what a deadlift is. It’s the one where you lie down on a bench and press a heavy rod away from your chest and bring it back down. My stupid friends keep saying what I just described is a bench-press but what can I say? They are quite stupid. Anyway, the guy deadlifting had muscles that fell only a little short of those of Conan The Barbarian. I, then, knew what I wanted to look like.
Motivated by guilt and burning with the regret of having wasted a lot of my youth already, I went back to the reception and asked for a 12 month membership worth only one of my kidneys. The receptionist obliged. After finishing the necessary financial formalities, he gave a big smile and said that I could join in the next day and stood up with a sense of satisfaction and walked to the washroom.
“From tomorrow, my life’s going to be very different.” I said to myself, with a lot of self-confidence tainted with a teeny bit of self-doubt.
I immediately came to my senses and rapidly shook off the self-doubt and it fell to the floor. I turned around to confirm that no one saw.
And then with my head held high, I walked out of the gym — a man with a plan!
“Yes, starting tomorrow 12 AM, i.e., within 6 hrs, I am a going to be an entirely different person.” I said again, ordering a pizza, a KFC bucket and a large coke to wash it all down, during my 2 minute cab ride back home.
