A/C Gym Dreams

I opened the door and entered a pre-heated oven. In a few minutes, I felt like I was an over-baked chicken, which had been cooked so long that all the juice and flavor had evaporated out. I didn't have any energy left to do anything, much less run hardcore for 30 minutes on the treadmill and do toning exercises on the weights.

Oh ye who work out in perfect temperature controlled gyms don't know how lucky you have it.

I used to be a lucky one. I had a shiny golden card which allowed me to go for free whenever I wanted to California Wow, one of the gyms in Bangkok. I had gotten a deal for a free membership through a friend and savored it. Unlike some of my friends who discuss working out as torture they must endure weekly in order to feel better about themselves, Im one of those weird people who actually enjoy the thrill, the sweat, the challenge, and the joy I feel after a good workout.

I reveled in walking into the refreshing air of my old gym, getting my card swiped, skipping past the many autographed profile photos of famous people I had never heard of who love my gym. Then right before the escalators meeting the huge poster of a woman's face who has a pixie-haircut, a perfect smile, and eyes that wink at whoever walks by like she is saying, "Welcome back friend."

I used to go in the mornings before work, or on my days off at times when it was the least busy. The gym became my adult version of a playground where I could play on any of the hundreds of treadmills, ellipticals, and other cardio machines; bend, lift, turn and twist on the wide array of machines in the weight area, and stretch my worn body in the section full of mirrors and mats.

Or of course there were the free classes I could go to at any hour of the day, but all taught in Thai with only a few English numbers or phrases tossed in. Yet, if I observed closely, I usually caught on fine.

But then it happened: my glorious, beautiful free year membership ended; my golden card became void and added to the pile of the useless cards I still kept in my wallet for nostalgic reasons.

And we moved, to a new apartment complex which had a gym--one of the main reasons we chose to move there. Of course, in Thailand, at a mid-range apartment, the gyms aren't much. They told us it didn't have A/C, but to my tough husband, it wasn't a big deal, we could handle it. I wanted to be tough too, and agreed, yeah, it wouldn't be that big a deal. This was during the somewhat cooler season, when the temperature is around 85 degrees.

The first week I was rather miserable, I missed the variety, familiarity, and cold air of my old gym. The machines in our new one are all made in the 80s and somehow have lasted until now. Long gone are hundreds of cardio machines, now I can chose between only two treadmills and two bikes. And our air conditioning substitute is five low-powered, lint-covered overhead fans spread throughout the whole room.

I got used to it though, and it was nice having the freedom to go whenever I wanted, be able to work out easily with my hubby, and for him to meet new guy friends through it.

But then it happened: the crazy hot season rolled in. I think the temperature must average at around 95-100, but even if it is around 90 or so it still feels like 100 because the air doesn't move at all; it just sits there like the heat has scared all the cool breezes and winds away from Thailand forever.

So thats why this week I have been running as fast as a 100 year-old turtle, sweating through my shirts in minutes like I'm a large 53-year-old man and sucking water out of my bottle like Im a 3-month old starving infant.

At least next year when I go to an air-conditioned gym, or run outside in the morning in 70-degree weather, I will work out with thankfulness cuz of how lucky I am--and if you got that now, be grateful and please say a lil prayer for me every time you work out, that I will survive being baked in my Thai gym oven.