Why My 22 Minute Workout was Out-to-Lunch
Yesterday I cancelled my gym membership. It was only three months ago that I signed up.
A lot has been said about gym memberships going unused, especially after New Year’s resolutions are made. My motivation to sign up was not goal driven and only modestly fitness driven.
The reason why I plunked down my credit card and signed up was because it was right next door to my workplace. Instead of eating a boring lunch and suffering through the depressing small talk of co-workers, I could slip in during my 30 minute break and do a quick workout while listening to an audiobook. I resolved not to workout before or after my job because I already spend to much time away from home. By working out at lunch I was wringing the most juice out of my mandatory eight and a half hour work day.
After a week of fumbles, fake starts and a few exhilarating workouts that felt like micro-holidays, I tweaked the workouts to exactly 22 minutes (anything less than 22 minutes, I think, is too short and would not derive any benefit). The remaining eight minutes was for punching off and on the clock, getting there and back, and changing my clothes.
As you can imagine, my plan allowed no flab. For it to work, execution had to be a near-flawless performance.
Well, there is an oft-cited saying that “the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry”. That certainly proved true in this experiment. My plan often did go awry. One common delay was other patrons in the change room. No matter what corner I picked, someone would take an adjacent locker and finish their workout just before me. They’d be in their underwear just as I walked in.
I don’t know about you, but this heterosexual guy doesn’t like disrobing beside strangers. I am a shy and private person to a fault. In this predicament, I used the urinal and washed my hands to kill time, but that wasn’t factored into the plan. I would return to work late.
The other glitch in my plan was technical; my smartphone battery or my wireless earbuds would sometimes be dead on arrival. Yes, I’d soldier on and do the workout without the accompaniment of an audiobook, but it wasn’t nearly as enjoyable. It felt less like a micro-holiday and more like manual labour to dance music.
Then two days ago I was called into the manager’s office for disciplinary action. I was late too many times and issued a written warning (my first). I was hoping they were overlooking my extended lunches all along, but that was magical thinking.
I suspect trying to get fit on 22 minute workouts is magical thinking as well.
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