But now, after trying to go virtually every day (and managing three or four times in reality) since the beginning of this month, I find that I am not going to be disproven. My original hypothesis, which I have been propounding for as many years as I remember, seems to withstand the experimentation phase.
I do not like the gym.
It is not because MY gym is bad; it is not. It is not because there is no benefit from going; there is. It is just because the idea of going to the gym seems to be contrary to nature. And I do not like to oppose nature.
Let's look at this. The gym creates an artificial world - simulated running and walking, lifting things up and down that serve no other purpose in the world than to be lifted up and down, and all of this to heavily-percussed music and a background of mirrors to show us how ridiculous we look while doing it. In the end, we are breathing harder, sweating, and exhausted.
Why doesn't someone just shoot me now?
No other animals in nature subject themselves to such torture. They just go around living. We humans, on the other hand, feel it is not enough. It makes much more sense to us to drive our cars and sit in chairs all day and then pay someone for the pleasure of making us tired from repetitive motions.
And then there is Gym Guy. We have all seen him (some of us may have even emulated him). Gym Guy is always in amazing physical shape. He does not sweat. He spends his time in front of the mirror in various poses. He looks down his aquiline nose at us when ten sit-ups have us near cardiac arrest.
If Gym Guy is not bad enough, he is usually followed around by Fake Gym Guy. Fake Gym Guy uses the weight machines on five or ten kilos but switches the settings to 110 kilos when he is finished so we can admire his strength. Fake Gym Guy has a lot of Gym Friends who spend more time talking than working. Fake Gym Guy also takes the last towels and bathrobes. He sits by the pool reading magazines. He watches with smug satisfaction when the ambulances pull up and take guys like me to emergency rooms.
And then he goes to parties and says, "Yeah, I like to work out five times a week..."
Ironically, for all my ranting and raving, I am also persisting in going to the gym. I also paid the extortionist fees. I also indulge in this self-torture. The reasons I have for doing it are equally dubious. I think that I should go.
This is me bowing to the collective consciousness of the Right Thinking People. The Right Thinking People want me to eat less, stop smoking, and go to the gym. I chose the least of the three evils. Who knows what these Right Thinkers do in the privacy of their own homes: they probably have refrigerators full of pizza, beer, and chocolate. But they have mastered the art of shaming people like me into action.
But I keep going not because I should, but because Gym Guy must be opposed by Normal Slovenly Guy. I do this for the good of society.
And you're welcome.