Beam me up Scotty!

We went to the gym for our first meeting, to get our passes and to meet with a trainer and get a workout tailored for our own needs and abilities. Seems pretty simple, no?

Just getting in the door was a venture in itself. We walked in and were met by a small counter and to the left one of those turnstile things. I must admit, I don't have a good relationship with turnstiles. They always seem to be just a smidgeon small for me and I end up having to contort my body...smashing, sliding (occasionally buttering up) pinching and scooting to get all the way through. Of course this is done while trying to be a discreet as possible as I don't want to make a fool of myself. I imagine I'm not the only big person out there who see's a turnstile and gets sweaty palms.

So we were greeted by a cute little girl (ugh am I really old enough to be refering to a teen/twenty something as a little girl?!?!?!?) who told us that since our intake was about to begin that we could hold off on getting our picture taken, our hand print taken (what?!?!) and our membership card. My mind quickly raced to my beet purple/red sweaty head after a workout, an image I'm not too keen on having to look at on a membership card, and said that's ok, we'd rather do it now if you don't mind.

So she took our picture with what looked like a webcam. No flash, no chance to say cheese, just an "Ok, I'm going to take your picture and ok it's done."

While she was fiddling with the computer a few members had come in. I got to see them go through the process of getting through the door. Apparently they are given a super secret code to punch in, then they place their hand on a shiny silver pedastal that has little knobs sticking up for a few seconds, a little red light comes on, thier picture pops up on the screen and they shuffle through the turnstile on their way to the mecca that is Club Sportive! WOW!

Geesh! What a process! The gym I joined with my friend Liz years ago had a similar, yet slightly less sohpisticated process. You walked into the doors that were never locked, there was a clipboard, yes a clipboard, on the counter where you signed in with paper and ink (at least it wasn't a quill!) and then you walked through the wide open hallway to the workout room. Compared to Club Sportive, my old gym was the "Amish" of gyms.

So the girl gave us our passes, pointing our our member numbers. We were then instructed to do the 'hand scan'. I have to admit I was kind of excited. I punched my super secret number in the little box, strategically placed my fingers between the knobs on the cool silver pedastal, red light on, through the turnstile and I was IN! I did it! I patiently waited on the other side while Marco was doing the same. He didn't seem to be as impressed with the process as I was. I guess that's what happens when you come from Smalltown Illinois!

So wow, I had only just walked through the doors and I already felt different, like I belonged to this secret society that only a select few (with the extra cash) could be part of.

We made our way up the stairs and down the long hallway into the most spectacular workout room I have ever been in. I have never seen so many pieces of big beautiful grey, silver and black equiptment in my life. It was an army of cardio equiptment lined up in neat rows. There were only two or three people on the machines so it was just a sea of endless opportunity in front of us. I wanted to act like a child and jump on every piece, trying it out, getting the feel. I wanted to run on the treadmill, spin on a bike, row a boat and climb that stair stepper.

Common sense and a tug on my shirt from Marco snapped me back into reality. Instead of acting on my impulse to rip through the massive room turning every knob and pushing every button, we went to the desk and met with our trainer.

The rest of the visit went pretty much like I had imagined. She weighed us, took our BMI, asked us our goals, put us on a bike for 10 minutes to see where we were fintness wise, let us walk on the treadmill showing us what the options were and what each little button did. She gave us a workout plan designed for each of us individually. She walked us through our routines, let us know that in 6 weeks she would redesign our routines for us and measure our progress and that was it. We did it. We made it through our first day at the gym.

As we walked out I wanted to snap my towel across Marco's ass like you always see them do in the movies. Fortunate enough for him I was too concentrated on my shaky legs getting me safely down the flight of stairs to be able to snap anything. Next time though, he better be prepared.