My Hotel Gym disaster
I have always avoided Gymnasiums as they seemed a place of torture and for those that indulge in sadomasochism, but having reached ‘Middle age’ the body is showing signs of wear and tear. As it happens I find myself occasionally in the business jet set and have been spending a number of nights away mainly in Sydney.
It is during those times at the Four Seasons Hotel, when making my way down for my hearty buffet breakfast, I noticed men in their gym attire on their way to a healthier and better life. About an hour later after consuming my two eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, you get the drift, I would sometimes bump into the same gym clothes but rather sweaty going back to their room.
A quick look in the mirror and it wasn’t difficult to realise that my slim metabolism that I had been blessed with for so many years had gone and that I was in fact pregnant. Yes it was easy to see I had a food baby developing and it was growing a bit more every month. At this stage I was also getting pressure from home, from my swimmer, gym instructor and personal training accredited daughter Nadine. So she decided I should do something about it. But first we needed a trip to the DFO outlets where I purchased two Puma tops, one bright (trendy) orange and one black, some Puma shorts, socks, multi-coloured gym shoes and a blue windcheater with a hood. Not sure why you need the hood.
So my next overnight trip to Sydney I took my gear. Having not ever stepping more than one metre in a hotel gym and that would have been on a forced hotel inspection, I thought I should check it out shortly after my early evening arrival. It was a relief that there was no gym instructor and nobody was working out. This allowed me to look at all this strange equipment and at the Four Seasons there is a lot of equipment.
They next morning was not one with early appointments, so I waited for the morning peak at the gym to subside, got fitted up in my Puma gear and went to see what was happening about 8.15 a.m. There were about half a dozen blokes and a couple of ladies doing their stuff. So not wanting to appear like Mr Bean I jumped on the most obvious, the exercise bike. Huge things they are as well, as it would take at least two men to lift one. However what was a shock to me is that ahead of the handle bars it had enough dials and controls to fly a Boeing. So I started pedalling and the bike asked me all sorts of questions. It seemed easiest to say ‘No’ to everything or press ‘Easy’ and 30 minutes seemed a reasonable time.
It was at this time that I started to realise that the gym is a very competitive place and there are secret competitions going on all the time. So whilst I’m cycling like I’m heading for a picnic in the Dutch countryside, I notice the machine has a TV screen in the front but no matter how much I looked I could not find the sound controls. So bored with the silent morning news I stole a glimpse of the fellow next to me and figured he must have his machine set to “Tour de France” stage 11 over the Pyrenees’. His agony was showing, I can only think that in his mind he was trying to keep up with Cadel Evens.
I thought that it may be time to do the next easiest thing I could see and that was to copy the lady who had just left the stepping machine that has two walking sticks to help propel you along. So I stepped up on the machine and put my left foot on the place where left feet are supposed to go. As the left foot plate was nearly at the highest point in the cycle I placed all my weight on it to bring the right foot plate up to meet my right foot. This was done with a little more difficulty than I had expected but the first revolution was achieved and it was then time to sort out the upright walking sticks which were starting to go backwards and forwards on their own. So grabbing them before I got hit in the chest with one I slowly got the motion going. It felt quite unnatural but I guess I had never been on this type of machine before. After about five tough minutes a fellow jumped on a similar machine next to me and was quickly up and zooming along at three times the pace I was going. His gate was also very different to mine. It was at this point that I realised that my fellow gymnasts’ thought I was either a complete idiot or attempting to the first person to run up Mt Kilimanjaro backwards. Yes I was going backwards so I thought it was time to retreat to my room as nonchalantly as possible. I thought of walking out backwards but decided not.
My gym disasters continue some weeks later.
A beautiful morning and with the time difference I was up by 7.00am so donned the Puma gear and macho’d my way to the Gym on the 48th floor of ‘Upper House’ with a magnificent view of Hong Kong. Did 30 mins on the bike and burned my 200 calories, did 500 metres of rowing. I had set it for 2 km but my boat sank at 500 metres. There was a guy lifting weights like he was at the Olympics. He would look at the bar for a minute, look at the ceiling, then attempt a new world record for hotel guests. After lifting the weight, he would pace around the gym in a semi trance, select a half size weight and add one to each end of the bar like a structural engineer and do the whole procedure again. Did you ever notice that if people want to be noticed in a gym they wear light grey T-shirts that go dark grey with sweat and testosterone takers wear ‘Lonsdale’ singlets. Another guest was running on the treadmill at an Olympic pace so I took the sit up’s option on a piece of equipment. Bad move as whilst the belly is like a saggy piece of elastic the tendon in my upper groin isn’t.
I was in Hong Kong for a trade fair and the walk to the exhibition centre was only 15 minutes if you know the walkways which I didn’t. So my comfortable Dutch suede shoes purchased in the cold of the Netherlands and worn in Melbourne’s winter did not allow for the expansion of my little toes in 30C heat and 99% humidity of Hong Kong streets. Plus my lower groin started to ping every 10 steps from my sit ups. So much so I had to walk with my thumb presses on my groin. On my return to the hotel I ask the concierge for a legitimate masseur which they duly pointed me to the Mandarin at A$450.00 a session. So walking like I have just got off a horse after a day mustering cattle in the outback I headed down to Wan Chai famous for Susie Wong. Many ladies offered to fix what they thought was my problem until I eventually found this male masseur. We had to forgo the normal cover up procedure so he could go to the problem. Anyway lots and lots of pain and I am able to walk and he said “No chillies for two days”. Is he for real? I couldn’t believe it but he was dead set serious. Anyway it was worth the A$28.00 so I might go back again after the trade show and get a work over. So the gym may be cancelled if I pull up lame in the morning. Fitness is a health hazard.
Two days later: Good morning world
Firstly I would like to issue a warning to all those attending a yoga class for the first time, do not, repeat do not have breakfast beforehand. I was to quickly discover that sitting in the Lotus position and sleeping yoga is not.
I was the only attendee at 9.00a.m so a private lesson. This of course has advantages and disadvantages. The main advantage is that you don’t make a fool of yourself in front of others and the disadvantage you can’t slacken off when the instructor is not looking.
So I learn it’s all about breathing, then body, mind and soul. I haven’t mastered the breathing but something spiritual did happen. Ten minutes in, a few stretches and relax. Sitting with legs crossed, eyes closed, having Zen moments. “Breathe in, exhale. Turn your head to the left and slowly open your eyes”. Now you either believe there is a God or you don’t because before my very eyes, who appeared from nowhere was a very slim, attractive 24 year old female, Chinese TV host from Beijing. It was at that moment my breathing went awry and my inner soul found a belief in all things yoga, because this was surely a spiritual event. “Hello my name in Lin %#}^¥ but you can call me Monkey”. “Hi my name is Trevor but my wife calls me ‘Delusional’. Don’t ask why ‘Monkey’ because she had the legs like a giraffe and as lean as a gazelle. So there I am for the next 50 mins looking like Yogi Bear on a yoga mat. I revel in distractions but now I realise that God may in fact be the devil. So between breaths I say the Lord’s Prayer to keep focused.
Anyway I survived but yoga is much tougher than I thought. Sadly our TV host had her boyfriend with her as they thought they would pop down to Hong Kong for the weekend having just spent time on a private beach in China.
Health and Wellness are all the buzz in travel currently. It’s the next phase up from “The Spa” that every hotel seems to have obtained in the last 10 years. Maybe I should ask my travel agent for a retreat where I will not hurt myself.
So now to the gym to see what other adventures await. I have also worked out you have to take your own headset to listen to the TV.
