Oh, the joys of early January. The whole year-and gyms across the country-are full of hope. Typically, I'm one to skip the gym until the third week of January-you know, when most people stop kidding themselves.
Now, if you're still holding a creme brulee latte and enjoying how your new Christmas yoga pants look, let me help you decide which gym is best. X Sport is the 24-hour gym and tanning salon that, yeah, lets people work out and tan at any hour. If you're training to become a bouncer in the Viagra Triangle or a Chicago Oompa Loompa, sign up now. Planet Fitness is for those embarrassed to join Curves. I left LA Fitness because I don't wear cologne while working out. Now I'm at the YMCA, and as long as I can get past the smell of cat food and cigarettes, I think it's the place for me.
There's no winning trying to work out in January, just less losing. This past weekend, snagging my preferred workout machine was as brutal as a jaunt on I-290. The great part about working out at the Y is the wide variety of patrons-of which no group is more dominant than dads who think they still have it.
I understand that many people who are out of shape resist working out due to a lack of self-confidence. Please, if you ever are feeling down about yourself, go to the gym. It's the meeting place for many self-doubters looking to get out of that funk.
The first place one should go to feel better about themselves is into the weight room, right into the belly of the insecure, grunting beast. There's no better place in the gym to realize you're OK than the weight room. I can walk in, look to the right and see some middle-aged man in the same lifting belt Arnold sported back in the day. Typically, this is meant to protect a lifter's back, but in this case it's used as little more than a medieval girdle whilst monitoring the height of those white socks.
Walk no more than a few steps further to scan the room for 20-something guys working the man fashion. I may never have the body of an extra in "300," but I can happily say that my muscles are bigger than my headphones. Between sets, I look up to see a new collection of apprehensive teenagers rocking their entire body to curl up a barbell. They must have read what the recent Maxim model said was hot. Oh, how I can empathize.
Let's not forget the meatheads, the whole reason the weight room exists. I remember these guys intimidating me so much when I started working out in my teens. Now I can't help but smile every time I see them pushing up the equivalent of a small car, screaming through the pain, then making polite small talk between sets with the seniors who are rocking the dumbbells. Don't be scared; the meatheads are just big teddy bears. Well, sweaty, smelly teddy bears, but still teddy bears.
Probably the most challenging thing while establishing an exercise regime is determining which workout photo to put on Instagram. Remember, you're early on, so angles easily can go from best friend to enemy. I've yet to see a gym selfie and think, "Wow that friend's hard work and humbleness is sure paying off! Oh, so do-rags are still a thing?!"
Sure it's annoying to get caught in the thick of gym rush hour, but remember, your body is a temple and never should be the Buick holding everyone else up on the highway. Go forth and sweat.
Mike Maxwell is a RedEye special contributor.
Twitter: @themikemaxwell