Channeling Animals

Today I walked on all fours. In an extremely ungainly manner. Bum in the air, hands flat on the ground doesn’t do it for me. And also makes me appreciate the load my feet carry.

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My trainer occasionally gets his peeps to do various animal-walks. Red’s come back all winded doing a duck walk and apparently there’s no end to the variety of animals that can and will be channeled in the fight towards a fitter body. Here are a few that trainers love to inflict on us poor heavyweights.

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A crab walk
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A bear walk/crawl
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A crocodile walk
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The snake crawl

All of these are designed to impact the body positively; in theory. But doing them is another ball game altogether. Especially when all the body wants to do is curl up and sleep. Image result for hibernating like a bear



Gym: Where I Meet My Body

Before I started going to the gym, I thought I knew my body. Most of it was bulgy or chunky in places it shouldn’t have been but I did not become acquainted with my scapula, soleus, trapezius as much as I thought I would have earlier.

They were names in an anatomy book but barring that they weren’t too relevant on a daily basis. Now they are. Because they ache, are tender or getting flexed and nudged rudely out of their comfort zone of near-complete inertia.

There’s a small poster in the gym that states, “The trouble is, you think you have time.” And while I try andq get my short arms and legs to move, I realize that time has not been utilized well all that much. 

I started out with a mix of exercises while my trainer figured out which ones would go well together and not have me pass out on the floor at the end of it all.

And gradually I got to have a proper routine. I’m refraining from calling it a regime because that makes it sound more rigid and barring my stiff muscles post the workout, there isn’t anything rigid about it. My trainer isn’t a drill sergeant and basically takes care of the people under his care. And he does seem to be able to size up the people who come in. 

A gym I briefly went to when MLM started playgroup, had the the usual cliches coming out of it in spades. The too-tight muscle shirt-wearing himbos, tank tops, people calling each other “dude” and trying to surreptitiously flex their muscles when chubby people walked in the door.

The trainers there would usually tell you your BMI and tell you to sign up for a year and get shoes of a specific brand while playing jhango Bollywood beats for you to exercise to. 

The place I go to now is unpretentious. It’s largely minimalistic and doesn’t embrace the “gymming” culture by showcasing treadmills and cycles the moment you enter. And am fairly sure *no one* calls anyone “dude” there.

Anyhoo, back to all 5 feet of me. I’m getting to know my adductor muscles daily while my calf and my plantar also make it a point to chat me up. Usually cribbing about being weak from disuse. Maybe if I’d walked to the fridge to snack more often rather than favoring my gluteus maximus for so long.

Speaking of which, no amount of lard on your rear end will come in handy when you’re asked to sit on a ridged object and roll back and forth. So might as well cultivate your hieney as a brief resting place rather than masquerade it like a mini land mass.

But all snarks aside, it is amazing how moving your hand back and forth or standing on one leg for a little bit of time can teach you how wobbly your entire body is. It’s not merely mind over matter; you actually have to make things happen! Willing it to happen is only the first step.

As it is, no other muscle of mine has ever got as vigorous a workout as the ole tongue. That one can bench press a helluva lot of words while scarfing down a large plate of cheesy nachos. Which again go and set up shop at the hips and south of the border. 

*emits forlorn sighs*

My body and I are so *not* having a happy reunion till now!