I Love Gym

I may as well have won the lottery yesterday afternoon. Thanks to a class action suit against the gym where I was a member during seminary, I got a free 45-day membership to the club that is less than a mile from our house.

I've already been twice.

You wouldn't look at me and think: gym rat. You probably wouldn't think that one of my major considerations in picking out a college was the proximity of the gym to the honors dorms. Nor would you guess that I took so many gym classes in college that I couldn't get credit for them all.

I just love going to the gym. I love the elliptical machines. I love the weight room. I love swimming laps, and I loooove the jacuzzi after it's all said and done. I love feeling buff, even if I've never succeeded in actually being buff.

Oh, and I also love playing racquetball, though I do not at this moment have a partner lined up. Ah, the good old days of playing with Andrea three times a week.

We did belong to a remarkably crummy gym our first year living here. (Remarkably crummy = blood on the walls of the racquetball courts for weeks, even after we complained. Repeatedly.) Once the membership lapsed I wasn't about to join the nice but infuriating gym that had charged an arm and a leg to quit (let's just say the class action suit was very well deserved). I figured the weather's nice enough, I don't need a gym membership.

But, oh, have I missed it.

So I get 45 days. I'm going to go as much as possible; there really isn't anything that melts my stress quite as reliably.

I'm totally joining a gym in Illinois.

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