I have been thinking a lot lately, about how I want my life to be. I guess it is in human nature to always want something different from what you got. At least, it is deeply embedded in me, to always change.
For instance, I recently discovered that a lot of people seem to think that I dye my hair blue, or wear rainbows and unicorns on my clothes, to get noticed. I swear, it never crossed my mind. I despise it when people comment on my clothes, or on my hair. I hate it when the ladies at the gym think they have the right to touch me because I wear something sparkly, or to pet me when I shaved my hair to write Gishwhes on my head.
I dye my hair once in a while, because I get tired of the way it is. I wear the clothes I wear, because that is who I am. It is the clothes I feel comfortable in. Like, some people think that black pants shape them. Well, I like unicorns. And My Little Pony. And rainbows. They look good on me, in my mind.
I never dress to impress anyone else. It never occurred to me that I could be viewed as if I am looking for attention, or trying to stand out. I do know that I stand out, and that I never fit in, but that never bothered me either. I am not trying to. I am just me, and I really wish that people would stop thinking that they know why I do things.
I just like my hair blue sometimes. That is who I am. The people who does not comment on it at all, are the very few who understands me. My best friend’s children doesn’t even blink when I change my hair…
Anyway, side track.
No, I feel like there is always some part of me that is moving on, no matter where I am. Looking for something new. When I joined my gym a year ago, that was new and scary and I honestly did not know if I was going to like it at all. Still, there was a need inside me, for changing my life, and having stopped competing with, and training horses, I knew I had to do something if I were going to keep walking.
Carrying the hay for my own horses was becoming a problem for me. I actually started wondering if I was getting too old to have horses, at the age of 34. My back simply could not take the weight of the hay.
So, instead of giving up, I chose to fight. I was told, as early as when I was 15 years old, that my chiropractor had no idea how I was even walking, considering how damaged my spine is, and the threat of ending in a wheelchair has followed me most of my life.
That is the kind of thing that does make you fight, is it not?
To my big surprise, I loved the gym. At least, once I got over the first few months of trying new classes, and finding out what I was ready for and what I absolutely could not do yet. But everything I could not do, gave me something to work towards.
I saw women twice my age, easily lift bars much, much heavier than what I could take, which was amazingly inspiring.
I realized that a lot of my injuries could actually be trained to a point where I am more pain-free now, than I have ever been in my entire life.
It has been an amazing journey, discovering what I can make my body do, and knowing that there is always more I can work towards. Somehow, I guess it is empowering to finally feel like you are in control of your body and not like you are being controlled by it’s limitations.
In that regard, the gym has been amazing.
By now, I’ve been to all the branches of my gym in my local area, tried everything from Boxing to Zumba and BodyPump, and even after we moved away so I have quite a long drive to anyone of my gyms, I kept showing up for classes, most days both in the morning and in the afternoon.
At first, I tried Zumba to do some mild cardio, because well, I suck at that and the dedicated cardio classes were killing me. I then discovered that I was horrible at coordination and that Zumba was actually quite a challenge for me.
Of course I was too stubborn to give up on that, and so I sought out new Zumba instructors every time I was starting to remember the steps with one of them. Again, always moving, always looking for something new.
At one point, I ended with a guy who is more of a dance instructor than a fitness instructor. I nearly did not go back to his classes, because he was everything I am not and to be honest, I had a much harder time reading him, than anyone else. But of course, I got stubborn and I had to come back.
I am not sure how I happened to become a dedicated stalker of his, but it has started bothering me lately, how much time I spend on Zumba and how I am letting actual (no offence) work out, take a second place.
At the other branches of my gym, there is mostly tough girls running the show, and we go there and work out and yes, we smile and laugh and know each others names, but that is about it.
At “his” gym, people spend just as much time drinking coffee with each other, as they spend dancing and even when he goes on vacation, do they show up and dance his stuff, without him. I was pretty fascinated by it at first, but that too has started to feel strange to me.
I was never a follower. I am not going to be. I am at the gym to get stronger. To remain strong enough to keep my horses. To keep my spine from collapsing.
I am not there to drink coffee. Hell, I don’t even drink coffee, because of the fault in my heart. I am not there to be a dancer. Truth be told, I am not there to make friends at all.
Now, don’t get me wrong. These are all wonderful people, and I don’t mind being friends with them, but that was not why I signed up for the gym. It really was not.
It is not. And I have started to remember that lately.
I am pretty obsessive, I know that. Lately, I feel like I am losing who I am, to my obsession with going to the gym all the time.
I am not writing anymore. I have not touched my books for a long time.
That is wrong. When I am not writing, I need to take a step back and wonder where my life took a wrong turn and this time, I actually know the answer.
I need to quit going to the gym twice a day. If that means that some days, I won’t be able to go to Zumba, because I have to go to BodyPump instead, then that is okay too. I need to spend less time driving back and forth. I need to spend less time after the classes, hanging out with the girls. I am losing myself this way, and I cannot keep going like that.
I don’t want to.
I actually considered switching gyms. My twin works out at another gym, and I will admit, that it feels very tempting to just join her and focus on the training I need to do, and much less on dancing and hanging out.
So, yes, as much as the gym has been a godsend for me, it has become a bit of an unhealthy obsession I am not sure how to quit.
The truth is, I am probably not going to quit my gym, as long as this particular Zumba instructor is there, because somehow he managed to become very dear to me.
So I ended up with a bit of a weird solution. Instead of quitting my gym and joining my twins gym, I kept my membership at my gym and… Found a small, very local, gym that is practically in my backyard.
When we moved here, I did check them out, but they didn’t have BodyPump, or any of the classes I needed at the time. Now, as I checked them again, they do.
I know. The best way to scale down on the hours you spend at the gym is… by joining a second gym. Right.
But having this gym so close by will allow me to not spend as much time driving back and forth. It will remove me from some of the classes where we usually hang out for hours afterwards. All in all, I should still be working out pretty much the same, (although perhaps a little less dancing,) but I should have much more time on my hands, this way.
Hopefully I will get back to opening my books again, and letting my characters talk to me once more, because they have been very quiet lately.
So here I am, changing again. Always moving on. Going for my first classes at my little local gym tomorrow morning.
I guess it is about balance. I have many faces and if one of them gets more attention than the other, I start to fail as a whole.
I am, first and foremost, a writer.
And a crazy one at that. I cannot let the gym turn me too normal. If it does, it sure is time to move on.