Tags: Boston Sports Club, can working moms work out, Sports Club LA Boston, The Biggest Loser, treadmills, working out at work, workout attire
Part II of my quest to fit exercise into my new life as a lawyer/mom (Part I was yoga at work): I joined the gym in my office building. It would never, ever be described as a “nice” gym. That being said, the cost per month is less than half of my current, crappy gym, where there’s always at least one machine on the fritz, and all the treadmills have gum in the water-bottle-holder-places.*
I left my desk, rode the elevator down 27 floors, filled out the paperwork to sign up, changed, ran on the treadmill for 30 minutes (I know I hate treadmills, but I hate going for more than a week without running even more), rinsed off in the shower (again, it was towards the end of the day so I didn’t bother to wash my hair, nor did I mind “glowing” for awhile afterwards — I had no meetings left to attend), and was back at my desk exactly one hour later. Not bad. Had I not had to register, I might have been back at my desk in 50 minutes. Or could have run another mile.
Talk to me in two weeks and ask me how many times I have been able to pull this off. Still, even though I had quite a bit going on today (and so knowing that I’d be working after I got home anyway) I forced myself to go. The lesson learned is: if you can force yourself to make the time, you always feel better afterwards. So mundane, but so important for a working mom (or working anyone) to remember. Not to sound too much like Oprah, or Jillian/Bob on “The Biggest Loser,” but you have to make time for yourself, too, even if it’s at the slightly shoddy gym in your office building.
*I actually kind of like my crappy gym better than my former, fancy gym. When I run, I like to wear old t-shirts over spandex. I throw my hair up into an elastic and stick a few bobby pins in the layers. At the fancy gym, women wore expensive yoga tops on the treadmill. More often than not, they also wore makeup and, even worse, WORE THEIR HAIR DOWN. Long hair, blown out into waves. Flowing behind them on the treadmill. Why? And how? Sure, at fancy gym you might see Larry Bird, or Justin Timberlake, or Kate Hudson as they cruised through town for a night at the Garden or on a movie shoot. And it’s not like I feel self-conscious in my less-than-attractive workout attire, but I just cannot run next to someone on a treadmill whose hair is in her face without wanting to yank it into a ponytail for her. I’m not some aweomse runner or anything, but I cannot take someone like that seriously.