Working out

Yes, things are working out. But that's not what I was going to talk about. Today, I joined a gym. It cost me 2,280,000 VND for six months, which amounts to around $24 a month. A far cry better than a lot of the gyms around here charging $100 a month and catering primarily to the expat contingent. Of course, it's a far cry worse than the $10 a month I pay back home.

Today was my first workout in approximately eight months. I am weak and out of shape. Not that this was any news to me. But it's even more obvious now that I've gone to the gym and seen my small muscles barely take shape in the mirror when they were fully contracted. That is sad.

I almost felt like I could have been anywhere. Once inside this facility, I could have been back home for all I knew. I also reconfirmed the notion that I hate gyms and the feeling of going through the motions. But the post-workout bliss overrides the blasé feeling that consumes me during the majority of my time in any gym.

It's almost like meditation. I have to not think about anything and let my mind blur into this oneness to get me through the experience. Treadmills, for example, are awful and one of the least appealing contraptions to set foot on. A little better than the squat rack. So, in order to even make it for 20 minutes on said machine, I have to let my mind go far away and let my feet blur into the movement of the conveyer. And if I'm lucky, I'll wake up and it'll all be over.