Guest post written by Christine Duncan
Whenever I tell people I am going to the gym, there is always laughter. It might be a smirk, or a chuckle, or an all out chortle, but laughter inevitably follows. It makes sense, I get it, because to look at my scrawny, gaunt frame is to assume that here is a man who is incapable of lifting anything, and by the mere laws of physics cannot work out, even if he wanted to. This is true. If a man is incapable of lifting a two pound barbell, what hope is there until someone develops a one pound barbell? None whatsoever. Thankfully, however, going to the gym isn't just about building muscle.
I go to the gym to run. Okay, I go to walk. While some of my cohorts prefer to walk in a dimly lit park, where no one can see there shame, I choose to go to the gym and walk on a treadmill, so my shame is there for all to see. This inspires me to get stronger. As the people point in laugh, I take mental notes of their treachery, thinking to myself how someday I will show them. Some day I will be fast enough to run a twenty minute mile and lift a two pound barbell without a sweat. Some day I will not need my home security alarm (specials ADT ALARM ) to stop burglars. Yet since I do, I make sure to set it every time before I leave for the gym.