 How to Survive When You Aren't the Fittest
I like the fact that Mother Nature has finally decided to put an end to all those problems she had with us, namely winter, and go plague people in the southern hemisphere. On the other hand, the bad news is that as the rest of the northern hemisphere enjoys the first days of spring, I have something else to worry about: my poor physique.
Normally, I don't have any problems regarding my body. Therefore, usually a dialogue between a friend and me very much looks like this:
A friend: I'm heading to the gym after Micro class. Do you want to come?
Me: No, thanks. I'll go get some sleep at the dorms.
OR
Me: I'm going to Burger King after Micro class. Do you want to come?
A friend: No, thanks. I'll go to the gym.
But the peace agreement between my skinniness and I has lasted until a few weeks ago, when my humble department announced the good news that I was accepted as an Erasmus student for Portugal for next year. And like any other good news, it came with a piece of bad news, too. Erasmus means a scope of students from all countries, of which Americans I am scared of most. On account of the Hollywood movies I've seen so far, there are two types of guys in the USA: obese hackers and derivatives of Brad Pitt. The first type of guys don't prefer Exchange, instead they simply hack the site of the university that they would have gone to. Brad-Pitt-derivatives, in contrast, are those who go abroad for Exchange and are those I'll be in competition with.
So yesterday, I went to the gym at the Main Campus Sports Center, where I've only been to once three years ago. I could remember the schedule the trainer had prepared for me three years ago, and I knew I haven't been through any major changes at all, so I decided to do it on my own.
As I began stretching, I realized that my body wasn't at the same state of mind as I was. I could understand that, because that was the slot on my schedule where I've either eaten or slept so far. Therefore I switched to the treadmill since I knew I could always trust my legs. However, the gym is designed so that you can observe the effect of your workout minute by minute through the walls covered with mirrors. Most athletic guys seem okay with this. But for me, as if watching my skinny body getting close to tearing itself apart at every step I took wasn't bad enough, I was obliged to watch other guys who looked like Olympic racers when compared to me. Thus, I gave up again and shifted to other gymnastic tools that I thought I'd remember how to use. But it turned out that as the trainer taught me how to use those tools 3 years ago, all I did was shake my head, not as a sign of understanding, but rather a hope for the end. I couldn't use any of them, and I had even managed to injure myself at the end of my so-called training session.
And so my interest in bodybuilding has ended. I have come to the conclusion that bodybuilding requires so much commitment that those people who do it should be paid for that. The good news is that for people like me, fortunately, there are other ways to draw people's attention and other ways of stealing bodybuilders' thunder. All we have to do is adopt an alternative style off the mainstream. So if you see me sporting a weird style in a few days, don't panic. I'm trying to survive. You can still head to the gym, though. Me? No, thanks.
BY CÜNEYT YILMAZ (ECON/II)
cuneyt_y@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
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