Gyms in Recife

For a long time I had successfully avoided going to the gym to exercise. I despaired the financial commitments, and the seemingly tortuous routine of lifting weights and setting them back down, pretending not to stare at myself in the mirror, but really obsessing about my every move in a pair of sagging of sweatpants and Goodwill t-shirt. I never cared for sharing the machines, doing 60 seconds of work and waiting another 60 seconds while someone else's sweat mixed with mine on the abused pleather. I loathed the idea of swimming laps, locker room athlete's foot, and the anxiety of trying beating someone else to the sole spin bike that inevitably lost a pedal or had a broken computer. But, after nearly heaving up a lung taking the stairs to our 4th floor apartment, I decided it was finally time for attitude change and a gym membership. Even with regular yoga and walking the dog, my cardiovascular health and overall energy dwindled to an unrecognizable point. Something needed to be done- avoidance wasn't cutting it anymore and I know for darn sure I'd never go for a run on purpose. 

My physical commitment caught up to my mental commitment about a month later. I toured several gyms in my neighborhood and settled on one that fit  my priorities being proximity, variety, and friendliness. In Recife the options and package deals are endless. The city has basic treadmill-type gyms, Italian themed gyms, gyms for women, gyms that give you free headphones, gyms exclusively with weights and stale mats and no air conditioning, tiny gyms, and huge gyms with valet and spa services and child care. 

In any case, I signed up, handed over my dough and got started at R2 Academia. The weight and universal room was milling with red shirted trainers. I avoided that section like the plague with hopes of being ignored. I opted to start with a spin class and afterwards quickly got roped into another one called "functional training." It consisted of 30 second circuits like tugging a rope, yanking on rubber bands and flinging myself in the air all wrapped up in a velcro harness. I didn't love it, but I didn't hate it- and the people above all were very friendly. So I came back.

Unfortunately I couldn't avoid the downstairs area much longer. They'd likely notice my aimless milling and obvious lack of planning- so when a friendly red shirt approached me asking me what my goals were, I couldn't run away. Instead I told him exactly what I was thinking: I have no idea what I am doing here or how to get started, fulling expecting to be patronized. But his introduction to the equipment was no big deal and within minutes I had a plan and strangely enough, motivation and confidence too. It took me a couple of weeks getting over my pride as the trainers guided me to every machine and making the adjustments "just so." Seriously- they do it every time and there's no use in trying to avoid it. You simply have to embrace it. The trainers in Recife, at least at this gym, take their jobs very seriously. Most of them graduate university with a physical education degree, and moonlight as personal trainers too.  So they actually want to be there, standing by the gym's motto: better together. Plus the training plans have expiration dates in efforts to change up the monotony.

Of course, like any gym it's got its characters: the makeup'd bunnies with perfect hair and pouty lips, and the old men who croon at them. There's meaty men and ladies grunting through their sets, cuddling their protein shakes, and there's  bored looking teenagers sauntering around pretending to do actual work. I have developed an appreciation to the various personalities, because I have one of my own: the American who speaks English.  That's not to say people don't speak English here, many Brazilians do to some degree, and they often approach me to practice or to laugh at my bizarre accent. They learn idioms like "charlie horse" and "coin slot moisturizer,"  whereas I learn that "macina crucifixa" refers the "pectoral fly/chest enhancing machine" and not Jesus. 

Fashion trends are fascinating. I've not seen a single person wearing cotton shirts (except myself), but plenty of thick push down socks. Unitards are totally in, as are neon colors, big headphones and Air Jordan's. I think the 80's are enjoying a renaissance. All this in symphony with those high-tech selfie taking things.  No one can go far without their phones- but the trainers never have them. They probably aren't allowed to at work, but I love this. 

I am glad I joined. I feel so much better and I can now climb the stairs without getting winded. I even started swimming- at least when I think I can stand 30 minutes of clogged ears and water up my nose. They don't clean the water with chlorine and the water isn't witch's tit cold, so it's way less painful than the one time I joined swim team at age 11.  All the cool kids wear caps, so I bought one of those too. I swim so slowly that apparently the coaches use my form as a model to beginner adult swimmers. They think it's funny to deliver such a fine-tuned backhand compliment. I will take what I can get. 

There are two things I wish I could change: more than one person has told me to not clean the equipment based on this luxury of having housekeeping who do it all for you. Yet day after day I see drenched individuals hop on and off the bikes, ellipticals, treadmills without bothering to mop up in between. It kind of wigs me out. The second thing is that nothing starts on time, surprise surprise. Classes usually start 10-15 minutes late and the extra machine-side socialization means I often get out of there later than anticipated. Besides that, the gym is fascinating on many levels- sights and sounds galore, plus... a little bit of fitness.

Oh who am I kidding? I check myself out too.