Simpson and Son's Revitalizing Tonic

So one of the promises made earlier this evening was an update on happenings at the gym. I'm sure you're all reading this breathlessly over your morning coffee and wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Well, keep reading friends, there've been three posts while you were sleeping. If you want to go read them in order, this will still be here after you've gotten your second cup.

OK, so everybody's back and caught up? Good. So stuff that's happening at the gym. The big news is that I signed up for the Equinox Equifit 30 Day Challenge. It's really not been that big of a deal thus far, since I'd already signed myself up for the same damn thing. I'm just hoping that I can win some fabulous cash and/or prizes that the gym is offering, since, you know, they've been stealing my money for the last four years. I think I'm in line for potentially two prizes, those for most times attended in 30 days, and most weight lost. I might win the third, but I can't remember what it was.

The story behind it is one of which my father would be proud. I impulsively signed up by one day after a workout. "Oh look, they're having a fitness challenge. That would tie in really well with the Did You Just Call Me Fat Twice? Fitness Challenge. Crap, I just made eye contact with the trainer manning the table. Look away, LOOK AWAY!"

"Wait, I don't have to avoid this guy. I want to sign up for this. Whaddaya know?"

As it turns out, that was an annoyingly made decision.

It was not for any reasons like "oh, I don't want to lose weight or hold myself responsible." It's annoying for the simple reason that the Equifit 30 Day fitness challenge is a total fraud designed to hold you captive for two hours worth of pitch meetings, like a potential retiree exploring time shares in Vail or Lauderdale.

Not that I'm bitter.

And yes, I'm overusing the "paragraph pause as comic delivery" method.

Also probably the "should-probably-be-hyphenated-quotes" method.

Anyhoo, the pitch meeting. They get you signed up for the Challenge, then tell you that in order to qualify for the prizes you have to get a fitness assessment with a qualified trainer. Fine, whatever, I understand you guys have to make sure I'm not going to pass out and die during a corporately sponsored event. Let's get me weighed, measured and evaluated, you can give me the rates on personal training, I can laugh and tell you that I'm unemployed, we'll move on. But the kicker here is that they also offer you a free personal training session to help get your Challenge started on the right foot. I'm not one to turn down a free anything at this particular point in 2009, although I did expect that the workout was going to leave me incapable of movement for three or four days since that was what happened the last time I got a personal training session. Instead, I got a surprisingly dull workout warmup and assessment, then a thirty minute discussion of a sixteen week program that I could do that would guarantee me a weight loss of sixty pounds. The workout was four times a week for sixteen weeks, at $60 a pop if I paid for all the personal training sessions in full up front. If my middle-of-the-night math is accurate, that's about $3840. Umm, no thanks. Again, unemployed.

But what really got to me about this particular scheme was the implication from my trainer that I was doing things wrong, and this would severely hamper my ability to lose any weight whatsoever. Apparently my cardio plan is ineffective, my weightlifting is faulty, my form sucks, and my quads and calves are out of balance. Fine, I can understand that, but at this point, I feel like my weight loss challenge is mostly about discipline like I've never seen before. Actually working out and eating healthy for extended periods of time is going to help me at least get down to a place where I feel the trainer can come in and do some refining. It's the whole Michelangelo didn't chisel away the rough rock, he only came in for the finer carving once the assistants had cleared most of the excess away.

Now that I think about it, that didn't even really get my goat that badly. This guy is just trying to make a living after all. What really irked me were the promises to discuss my cardio workouts and make them more efficient, then when I asked about what I could do, getting the response of "Well, I can help you, but I'd have to monitor every cardio workout you do for the next sixteen weeks." Really, Keith? I'm going to pay you sixty bucks an hour to stand on the next treadmill and press buttons for me? I don't think so. I'm not sure why this bugged me so badly, since it's probably a great business model for the Lincoln Park-located gym. All I know is that it smacked of dishonesty and manipulation. So screw these guys, I'm going to do this on my own. Now, off to bed for me. I've got an interview on Wednesday.