Sometimes you get so out of shape that you forget you're out of shape. Initially, you don't exercise for a couple weeks and think, "I'm getting really fat, perhaps I should go to the gym." If it goes on for a month or two, though, the lack of exercise institutionalizes itself. Such was my dilemma -- between classes, flan and the 40-hour week Street demands -- the thought of exercising was never a serious consideration. "Exercise is for 7th-graders and gypsies," I reasoned.
Eventually, however, the thoughts reemerged. Two incidents demonstrated how pathetically out of shape I was. The first of these took place at Houston Market in the pasta line. Ahead of me, two girls were chatting about their workout routines and, surprisingly, pasta.
"Promise me you won't freak out when I tell you this," one said to the other. "You're totally gonna freak out."
"Just tell me!"
"Okay, well ... I haven't been to the gym in ... four days!"
"What! And you're eating pasta? Gross!"
I hadn't been to the gym in much, much longer. A week? A month? More like a school year. Still, I wasn't convinced that I should participate in this "physical activity" ballyhoo. Those girls were just retarded.
The other incident occurred in the elevator of my dorm. Someone I knew got on. She was wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and holding a water bottle.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Pottruck."
"A potluck? How fun! You look a little empty-handed though."
"No, Pottruck. The gym."
"Oh, of course. Gonna go on the elliptical, baby?" I accentuated this term I had heard in passing so as to sound informed. She just smiled.
For these reasons, I now play intramural basketball. It seems like the best way to get back in a routine, since I played on teams my whole childhood. I played a lot of soccer also, but quit around 8th grade after realizing that soccer is the most challenging thing a human being can possibly do. And while we only play basketball once a week, it's good to know that I have something physically excruciating to look forward to every week other than Thai food.
Still, it's an uphill battle. During the first game, after we had played a bit, I told a teammate that I was going to go to the water fountain for a second.
"Jim, the game hasn't started yet," he said. "We just did a lay-up line."
"Maybe you just did a lay-up line, but when I'm on the court, I leave it all out there."
I scored one point in the game. The post-game flan was exquisite.
