Page 16 of Captured Love

Itake a deep breath before I walk through the automatic doors. I can’t remember the last time I walked into Crestwood’s gym, but there is no time like the present.

The slight smell of chlorine from the indoor pool hits me, unlocking a memory. Has it been over a year since I’ve been in here? Wow. I pause, adjusting my tote bag on my shoulder, and survey the front lobby. I didn’t know they renovated the reception area. It’s sleek now, with modern touches like brushed steel fixtures and a minimalist, white marble counter. Everything looks so different that for a second I think I might be in the wrong place. The large, green potted plants behind the front desk add a touch of nature to the otherwise sterile environment.

“Can I help you?”

I jump slightly when I see a guy with a man bun staring at me from behind the reception desk. I force a smile and walk over.

“Hi, yeah. Do I just swipe my ID here to be let in?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

It takes me a couple of tries before the computer registers my ID.

“You haven’t been here in a while,” he says as he looks at the computer and then back at me.

“Yep. I definitely knew that,” I say as I slowly nod. Thanks, Captain Obvious.

He shrugs. “Well, welcome back.”

As I make my way past the desk, I can feel his gaze linger on me. That wasn’t weird or anything.

I walk until I’m greeted by a bunch of machines and free weights. I’m a little bit nervous given that there are a bunch of people here right now, but I chose to come during prime time. This is something I need to do in order to get used to working out with a crowd. Or so I tell myself. If I go at odd hours, I'll just psych myself out when it's busy. And this works with my class and work schedule.

I survey the area like a general planning an attack. The weight section is packed with dudes in cutoff shirts and gym shorts, so I decide to start with some cardio. Maybe by the time I’m done, there will be fewer people over there.

I make my way into the locker room and drop my coat and bag off while making sure to grab my phone, headphones, water bottle, and hair tie.

I take another deep breath as I walk out to the main floor and put my red hair back into a ponytail. I swipe open my phone and find a playlist I made specifically for this: “Gym Torture.” The first track is “Eye of the Tiger”.

A line of treadmills stretches across the far wall near the windows. Most are taken, but I spot an open one at the end and quickly walk over. I step onto the treadmill and examine the control panel. It’s been long enough that I have to reacquaint myself with all the buttons and settings.

I hit Quick Start before I lose my nerve. The belt jolts to life under my feet. My stomach lurches. God, I hate running. ButI'm determined to make a change, to take control of at least one aspect of my chaotic life.

As I settle into an awkward jog, my mind starts to race, berating me with cruel jabs.

You're too slow. Too big. You don't belong here with all the gym rats. Everyone's probably staring at you jiggling with each labored step.

No. I shake my head, blinking back hot tears. I won't let the negativity win. Not today. One foot in front of the other. That's it. Just keep going...

Focusing on my breath, the music helps drown out the noise in my head. Slowly, I find a rhythm and realize this isn't so bad. I can do this. I AM doing this.

When I’m a couple of songs in, I steal a glance at the time display on the treadmill. Six minutes. It feels like an eternity, but I’m kind of proud I've lasted this long. My legs are starting to warm up and my breathing, while still heavy, isn't completely out of control. It’s going to take me some time to get used to this sort of activity again, but I’ll get there.

Because I AM doing this.

I let my eyes wander to the free weight section again. Still packed. A guy in a neon green tank top is grunting loudly as he does bicep curls, his veins popping out. Another dude in a backward cap high-fives his buddy after finishing a set on the bench press. The thought of walking over there makes me want to run right out the door.

But that doesn’t matter right now. I’m here, and that's something.

I turn my focus back to the treadmill and up the speed just a tad, pushing myself into a faster jog. The burst of energy surprises me; a small spark of hope. Maybe all those fitness articles I’ve skimmed aren’t complete lies—maybe there is such a thing as a runner’s high.

However, that quickly changes a few minutes later. My legs start to feel like Jell-o and my lungs are on fire. Time to slow it down before I collapse in a puddle of my own sweat. I gradually decrease the speed until I'm at a brisk walk, then finally a leisurely stroll.

As I catch my breath, I can't help but notice how effortless everyone else makes it look. This girl several feet in front of me on the elliptical looks like she is barely breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, I'm over here panting like a dog in the middle of summer.

I half expect to see judgy looks or hear snickers as I wipe the sweat from my brow with the bottom of my t-shirt. But when I muster up the courage to actually take in my surroundings, I realize that no one is paying me any attention. They're all too focused on their own workouts, their own goals, their own journeys.

Huh. Imagine that. The world doesn't actually revolve around me and my insecurities. Who would've thought?

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