I am someone who really likes working out. I know, I am sick like that. But I like pushing my body; whether running or lifting or going to a Barre3 class, I like seeing what my body is capable of beyond what I think I am capable of.
With my move to Seattle almost a year ago, the pressures of completing the dissertation, learning how to live with someone and be in a relationship with that person (while completing the dissertation), and networking my ass off (while completing the dissertation), working out – in the way that I was used to working out – kinda fell off the radar. When I lived in Columbus, Ohio and I was living life as a solo-Ph.D. student, then Ph.D. candidate, I would get up at 5:15am and bike up to the OSU gym, the RPAC – in the rain, sleet, or snow – to get there and hang out with my little old guys (retired or near retiring professors) before the gym opened at 5:45am. When I got to Seattle, there were times when I was not working out at all and there were times when I was only managing to fit in two or three Barre3 classes a week. I certainly was not out of shape, but I was not as in shape as I like to be.
One of my priorities in the move to Singapore was getting back in shape, looking fantastic naked, and getting back into running and lifting as I do enjoy the quiet, alone time those activities bring me. However, trust me, if someone opened a Barre3 Studio in the Orchard area I would be there to open the studio a few mornings a week and set up the place, just as I did when we lived in Seattle – I really did enjoy the camaraderie of the Barre3 classes, how much a Barre3 class would kick my ass, and I miss the amazing instructors.
For as much as getting in better shape is a priority, finding an apartment with a gym in Singapore was not a must have/deal breaker on my list of desired amenities, but it was definitely in the second tier. Soon after moving here (all of less than three weeks ago) I realized that having a gym was not a total deal breaker for me because each time I step outside here I feel like I should be running. As in, I am already sweating when I walk out the door, so my body feels gross in that I-must-be-working-out-for-I-am-sweating kinda way. Normally, I am not someone who sweats much. The only time that I sweat all over is when I am working out. So, if just by walking out of the door I am sweating all over, then sure, fine, I should just be going for a run — at least this is my body’s logic.
Here at the corporate apartment we have a pretty decent gym. It is not huge, but it has good machines and solid amenities — after viewing 23 apartments and about 15 different apartment buildings, I think I have a decent sense of the range of gyms that exist in apartment buildings in Singapore. Our current one is pretty decent.
Here’s the thing that some how did not occur to me when I thought about the move and working out here – different units of measurement. Crap, all of a sudden I am standing at the weight rack wondering what I should be grabbing and how many pounds are in a kilogram???? Different units of measurement occurred to me in things like driving and cooking but not working out.
I am not a big fan of swimming as a form of exercise, but I may have to reconsider my stance on swimming. I HATE getting water in my ears, eyes, and nose. I just HATE it! The degree to which I loathe getting water in my ears is what has kept me from ever doing a triathlon. I can do the biking and running just fine thankyouverymuch, but water – ick!
But there are pools everywhere in Singapore. Every apartment building I visited had one pool – sometimes two. So maybe with some goggles, ear plugs, nose plugs, and a swim cap or a giant bubble around my head I could consider taking up swimming. It is suppose to be awesome for the body and muscles and joints or whatever. At least if I swim, I should not have to convert any measurements.