Starting by Stopping
It’s the time of year for brave resolutions, fresh starts, and “new year, new you” schemes. So I just cancelled my gym membership. And I feel pretty good about it.
Perhaps the fact that I walked 9 km to execute said feat made it feel okay. Or maybe it was the pleasure of the bizarre, unseasonable balminess of 11° C weather in the dead of winter, complete with magical-looking mist along some of my route. Or the delicious drizzle and feeling soaked to the skin without being cold. (Confession: I love rain.) Or was it that I was relieved to end the shame of unofficially cancelling my membership (still paying for it though) by virtue of never going to the gym?
In case I wasn’t sure about my delinquency, the nice lady at the front desk cheerfully told me it had, in fact, been 167 days since my last visit. Thanks. Thanks for that. Mercifully, it’s not a top of the line gym that costs an arm and a leg. But even the cost of a lesser part, say a finger, for a few months leaves one empty-handed to some degree.
I used to be a self-declared Gym Rat. I loved the gym. I have many great memories of people there, personal victories, and winning workouts. In the last while though, clearly my passion has waned. It’s possible I’m a bit “outdoors-deprived” after an intense contract kept me indoors all autumn (one of my favourite seasons to be outside). It could be that I am less than enthused by the wall-to-wall display of televisions that I really don’t want to watch. Confronted with a screen, I cannot seem to tear my eyeballs away even though I don’t care for what is flashing incessantly before them. This year, I want to be outside, not running like a hamster on a wheel in a cage.
A small gym in Christchurch, New Zealand where I shed much sweat years ago.
Recently I was most inspired by a couple who don’t live anywhere near a gym, but walk for exercise. The woman clocked in 1000 km last year, and her husband even more. Something about that achievement made me want to try. So, like my inspiration, I shall endeavor to walk 1000 km this year. Broken down, that means about 20 km per week. Broken down even more, it is manageable. I’m excited about this. I’m looking forward to being outside, with my thoughts, lapping up scenery, enjoying the freedom I have in this amazing and beautiful country. Though I’ve ditched the gym, I realize this is nothing more than a different health resolution. In achieving these lofty goals, I guess what really matters is being committed, and being eager about it. It’s hard to be committed to something that feels like drudgery.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll be all walked out by the year’s end. Maybe I’ll miss the gym then. Or maybe I’ll want to try running 1000 km next year (she said, doubtfully rolling her eyes). I guess only time will tell. Hopefully I can stick to this and my odometer will be 1000 km greater by the time next January rolls around.
