Dearest Rachel –
It should hardly come as a surprise to you that, even after all this time, I really don’t like going to the gym. It’s an obligation at the best of times, in order to stay in shape; more often than not, it feels like a punishment – or at least, penance – for the lifestyle I tend to otherwise maintain of eating more than I should, and being more indolent and sedentary than I should, and liking both aspects of that.
In truth, there are so many other things I’d rather be doing first thing in the morning. Today, in particular, I still have to come up with an idea and start writing to you; for the last several weeks, I’ve had topics in mind that I’ve started on – and gotten halfway through – my letter to you before going to bed the night before. That’s not the case today, for whatever reason, and I feel like I’ve fallen behind. Yes, it’s a self-imposed assignment, but so is just about everything else in my life; including the one having to do with going to the gym. This is a case of weighing these self-imposed priorities, and for the better part of a month or so, the gym hasn’t been much of a priority (and I’d almost just as soon keep it that way)
If nothing else, so much of the motivation to go has sort of evaporated. I don’t get the same kind of dopamine hit from losing those two or three pounds of water weight that I used to, for starters. Meanwhile, the long-term goal that got me started on this journey seems about as far away as it ever was; there’s no sense that there’s any ‘Megumi’ out there for me to attempt to attract with this newly-shaped (well, at this point, it’s settled into a fairly standard band, as far as my weight and the shape it takes are concerned) appearance, any more than there was such when you were alive – which should give you a rough idea about how ridiculous the concept of her existence is starting to become in my mind. With that in mind, why should I even be trying anymore, especially when eating and indolence are so much more appealing to me?
To sum things up, I’m just not feeling it today. Even though the sun is out this morning, making it an ideal day for me to go walking to the gym – and doing that much more walking once I’m there – I can’t help wondering what the point of it is.
Still, after crossing a certain line, there’s this sense that I need to do something about that. Lars reacted with mild alarm when I admitted to being over two-forty when we met on Tuesday, even though I pointed out that it was only two pounds more than I’d tipped the scales at throughout the previous three weeks. On top of that, Daniel and I had eaten something of a heavy meal the night before (and inadvertently, too, as I hadn’t expected the sandwich I ordered to be quite so large. Lars suggested that I should’ve just wrapped it up and taking it home with me, but I countered that we weren’t headed home from there). And indeed, after our walk, I’d actually gotten myself down under that line by evening, so I didn’t see a need to concern myself overmuch about it.
But this morning, I was back over that same limit yet again; and for very much the same reason. Not only did we grab a big meal on our way out to class last night – Daniel had what’s become his weekly usual, and I picked up something from the Chinese fast-food joint in between the sandwich and smoothie shops he frequents – but my sweet tooth was acting up on the way home, and I grabbed some ice cream – well, frozen custard, but that feels like splitting hairs – while Daniel opted for a Slurpee elsewhere along the way. Honestly, it would have been a miracle if I had managed to stay under the line, with all that thrown down my gullet.
And, as we all know, miracles don’t happen all that often, which is why they’re considered miracles. Now, if it were earlier in the day, I might feel better about manning up and assuming this responsibility; I could put in my hour on the treadmill, get back home, clean myself up, and be off to the ‘office’ at a reasonable hour. Then again, it was in the low fifties when I woke up, which gives one pause in and of itself; had I been up before it was light like that, it would have been that much colder, and provoked that much more hesitation. And in any event, I was up when I was up; there was no way to get up and out any sooner than I already was. I would have to content myself with being “late” to the ‘office.’
I will say that, while I half-expected looks of opprobrium for not having been there for so long – the return of the non-native, if you will – I tend to forget that it’s not that sort of gym. Nobody is terribly concerned about how they look while working out – they’re not the cohort who’s likely to make TikTok videos of their workout or anything – nor are they concerned about what anyone else is doing, either. If you’re there and working out, great, if not, that just frees up the machine for them to use.
Not that there was any shortage of machines, either; at eight o’clock in the morning, the group that works out before work has left for their offices, and those that come later in the day haven’t gotten there yet. It’s not like I have the place to myself, but even if I was afraid of people’s eye on me, there weren’t that many people there to lay eyes on me. I’d worry about the place’s financial outlook, but they have folks like me who buy memberships and stay away for a month or so; inactivity is no indication of their subscriber base.
Anyway, I put my time in, and I’m back under the line – for now. Today is Thursday, and you know by now that means that we’re off to Meema’s for dinner. So keep an eye on me and wish me well; I’m likely to still need it.
