lifting terms. I think they're strange and beautiful.
Ten days ago, before getting hit with fever and snot, I joined a gym. I've managed to avoid joining a gym for nearly two years. After all, I've got free access to the facilities at the college and it seemed an unnecessary expense--which is to say I've not only not been in a gym since I moved here from Ithaca but also that I must have learned nothing in grad school because it was the same story there. Cheap gym facilities on campus: why join off campus? But eventually I did join the gym in downtown Ithaca, a little grungy place I'd run to when the rest of my life was out of control.
Because my campus life is out of control. I accept it.
The new place is also small and grungy and packed to the square inch with free weights and machines. Utililty is beautiful: in the back room, two punching bags, a squat bar, a bench press, a jump rope and a set of gloves, and red brick walls where a set of belts hangs on a nail.
Oh, and the perks of a small midwestern town? They let me have a key to the place so I can make my own hours. Membership: 25 bucks a month, no deposit, no membership fees.
I went back this morning, flicked on the lights, the stereo, and got to work. Upper body day, as they say.
