I have decided. I am a freak. I went back to the gym this morning (after a weeks break, real life keeps getting in the way) and rode and pulled and pushed and stretched.
And I am in pain.
And I like it.
Now, what sort of person does that make me? Enjoying pain?
To add to my growing interest in the gym, we now have our shiny membership cards. They are scanned as we enter and I found myself asking my husband what they do with the information. He couldn’t tell me and so my wild imagination started fantasizing on the drive home.
Firstly, I thought up a reward scheme. You know, a bit like a sticker chart. Whereby after so many visits, little prizes could be awarded.
They could start off with very small gifts and build up, say, to the gym’s t-shirt, which hangs proudly at reception.
I, for one, would go more often.
I felt quite excited by the prospect. Though, I have decided not to ask Michael, our industrious trainer. Because my husband already looked somewhat alarmed at my idea of asking if the fresh fruit in a bowl on the counter is for free. He convinced me after pointing out that it is, in fact, in a cafe area. I had to argue back that at another gym, which my friend attends, there is in fact always water and fresh fruit freely available.
Then I thought of completely the opposite scenario. It could be that if we don’t visit the gym often enough, that they torture/bully/threaten/poke us with cocktail sticks/take us to one side and have a little word about our ‘commitment’. 😮
Or it could just be that they need to know who is present in case of a fire.