By Calder Clark, NB Wellness guest editor
You know exactly who I’m talking about, so don’t front. There is a veritable litany of gym junkies, aka gym rats, the lineup of which is a study in the patchwork quilt that makes up the American people. Every gym has the Buff Grandma, the ’80s Bodybuilder, the Scantily Clad Teen and the Over-Zealous Spinning Instructor. You’ve rubbed sweaty shoulders with the Lithe Yogi Girl who glides around barefoot, unfazed by the same demons that haunt Lysol-Misting Germophobe Guy. My parents are some of the worst offenders: Old People in Matching ’80s Windsuits.
So where do you fit in? You’re rockin’ year-old running shoes, faded capris and a t-shirt you designed for Greek Week about 10 years ago now. Your heart is in the right place, but your only gympanion is Front Desk Dude. Time for a makeover, my friend.
First, get you some great new shoes and gear up for performance.
Second, take notes. I suggest you shadow each personal trainer (I said “shadow,” not stalk!) and jot down a mental mind-map of the strengths and weaknesses of each. Chemistry is key; seek out someone who is motivational, natural and lets you be your makeup-less self.
Third, reach out and swipe the card. Buy a block of training sessions, make yourself accountable and prepare to feel the burn. Support others working their buns off and reap the rewards of their reciprocal back-patting.
Finally, take a leap. You’re not “into classes”? Give one a try. Still not your bag? Download a few itrains and skip the plateau by firing harder on the stationary machines.
What kind of gym junkie will you be?