But Always, the Gym

I’m no athlete; in fact, I have fibromyalgia. But the gym is my happy place. Maybe it could be yours, too?

If my youth baseball league gave an award for being useless and scrawny, I would have won it both years.

My most celebrated moment in seventh-grade basketball was when I set a pick and drew a foul. It wasn’t even a very successful pick — see “scrawny” above.

And it’s not just team sports that escape my mastery. I’m not a good runner either. My high school track ribbons were all second place on the junior varsity team — the equivalent of a participation award. My ability to swim really hard without moving a foot thoroughly stumped my instructor, as well as the crowd of other instructors he called over to watch.

Come to think of it, I really suck at sports. So why does the smell of a gym leave me calm and energized?

Baby Steps

In college, I put on the freshman fifteen plus a few extra. On my scrawny skeletal structure, it looked like the freshman forty. For the first time, I ventured to a gym and had a fitness assessment. I started to learn how to use the weights and cardio machines, and it became my refuge from a crappy living environment.

I stuck with exercise after graduating and getting married. I’d go to aerobics classes at the apartment building’s…