Beating Around the Bush

A column with Cathy Stubbs

Well worth the effort

It is now about six weeks since I entered the sweaty twilight world of the gym junkie where perspiration is worn like a badge of honour and burning muscles are something to aspire to.

It is a world where people leave warm comfortable beds at dawn to participate in a ritual of huffing and puffing, toning and trimming, which to the uninitiated could easily be mistaken for self inflicted torture and masochism.

It is a world where there seems to be no gain without some kind of pain - but where somehow, it’s worth all the effort.

Since joining the local gym, I have experienced both sweating and burning in such quantities that I have now come to like it, even crave it. Last Wednesday I had an erotic dream about a treadmill, which seems to me sure proof that I too am addicted. No one but a gym junkie would dream about a treadmill, erotic or otherwise.

People who belong to this world are addicts like any others. If they are prevented from having the source of their addiction, they get decidedly twitchy.

The children in the Stubbs household now save all doubtful requests for increased pocket money or toys until I have returned from the gym. They reason that this is when I am at my psychologically most vulnerable. Having satisfied my craving, and in a sort of exercise induced dream-like state, they believe I will be in the perfect frame of mind to be manipulated into giving in to their requests.

I never thought I would see the day when I could feel this good again, both mentally and physically. I never thought I’d see the day when I could bench press a screaming six-year-old or clean and jerk a load of washing with such ease.

During our bush walk to the bottom of Fern Tree Gully last weekend, I was able to climb up those hellishly steep stairs unaided rather than having to be winched out by the Westpac Rescue Helicopter.

However, even more gratifying than being able to chase an escaping four-year-old up the street without wheezing, has been the recent ability to wear clothes long since relegated to the "cut-me-in-half" end of the wardrobe.

There could be no greater incentive than this, for continuing to make the effort.

I have noted with interest that I am not the only one around concerned with my wardrobe.

A rapid increase in numbers for the early morning circuit class, I am told, is directly related to the nearness of the swimming season.

Wiser gym junkies than I tell me this phenomena is repeated every year about this time.

It only goes to show, I guess, that the desire for improved health and fitness is at least equalled by the fear of having to appear in public in your cossie after failing to attend the gym though winter!

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