Fit hain toh Hit hain….

My idea of fitness has roots in my childhood. I have lived through terrible trauma, and my sense is that a less strong person than me (?) would have been shattered. The folklore on this goes as such –

 

I was a PT sensation in school. Students used to eagerly await the annual PT exams. My guess is that the sight of just seeing me run was the reason for this unbearable wait. There were some kids who wanted to actually just see me doing my complete routine during this, and beg their teachers for some time off to see me on the track. We had a girls school in our campus and I have a feeling that the girls in too were very excited in watching me perform.

 

I used to be a bag of rattling bones by the time I reached the track. This was my Achilles’ heel, I could only be defeated here. The start of the track events was the 100 metres sprint. I have shamed every person who runs, by my awful records. I mean who runs 100 meters in 21 seconds???!!! And 400 metres – well it possibly took me an hour I guess. My PT teachers would probably have an drip ready for me at the completion of 400 meters, but I would have passed out by the time I finished 300 meters, so I don’t really know if their first aid skills!! In my whole term in school, I managed 1 pull up, JUST ONE. Embarrassing but true. Imagine the trauma I lived, year on year.

 

It took me some 20 years before I accepted my weaknesses on the fitness front and enrol into the gym. It’s been just over 2 months now that I have started gymming. I am now leaner and fitter than I was before. With 3% reduction in body fat and a weight increase of 1.5 kgs, I am on my way to a perfect body. Well, almost – as soon as I replace the tyres with biscuits on my abs! Anyways, my trainer has been pushing me to do all sorts of things of the exercise kind. I have possibly never run in a year in school, which I have done in the past month.

 

Anyways, coming back to today, have you noticed the guys at the gym? They’ll be all enthu- cutlets. 15 minutes of cardio, then hop skip and jump to the weight training bay. A few quick weights and then the fun starts. They pose in front of the mirror, sleeves rolled up, flexing their newly developed muscles. Add to this, the fancy protein shakes, nutritional supplements are all bought with a fervour equivalent to purchasing arms to fight a freedom struggle. 

 

Strangely, fitness is misinterpreted as bulging muscles by most guys, and “size zero” by most women in the gym! Being fit today is not about endurance, it’s about looks!!!

Gym Carry!

Nope Sir, that’s not a spello. That’s me. Funny? No. Thought so.

 

Anyways, I have always loved going to the gym as much as a monk loves violence. My earliest memories of trying to flex the tissues around my bones were when I got a faint trace of hair on my upper lip. In those days, having it meant a sign of machoism. I needed to add that dash of style to my personality. Everyone seemed to be doing this, so I joined in. Anthony, the trainer that I had when I was 19 would have told his grandchildren fables of how I grew into the strongest man on this planet. Somethings are never meant to be part of folklore. Sigh. What could’ve been.

 

Anyways, back into the present. My wife has been asking me to start gymming for about 5 years now. But like the headstrong bull, I have never listened to her. But somewhere, her constant pushing has made me sign up at the gym at office. Its been a couple of days. My wife has shown full faith in me. My brothers have politely accepted this as one of my “fads”. My friend Amaan is amused. He has given me 10 days. Tops. “10 days later”, he says, “dada aap ghar par hee exercise karoge”. Ha! I will go beyond that Amaan… I believe I’m pushing myself hard. My trainer doesnt think so! Sirjee, cardio karo, stamina build karo. Yessir, I am. Muscles, yessir coming up right away!

Anyways, I got to keep this short, cant type anymore, my body is paining in places that I didnt know it could. AAAHHHHHH!!!!!!