Fish Like a GIRL

About a month ago I joined a gym. I have never been a gym-goer, per se. In fact, the only time I ever went with any regularity was shortly after my late husband Rod was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and he was in the Strong Bones, Strong Bodies Program. That program was designed for people who are on chemotherapy treatment to help them keep up their strength and stamina as much as possible. It was held at the YMCA. Seeing as how he was going to be there anyway, I decided to get a membership, too. It was kind of fun. I paid for a personal trainer for three sessions… and she promptly tried to kill me with the first session. After Rod was no longer in the program, I let my gym membership lapse.

Fast forward to last month. I decided it was time to get back to the gym, as my lifestyle seems to become quite sedentary in the winter months. While on the treadmill warming up the other day, I took a casual glance around the place. This particular location just opened, and everything is brand new and sparkly. But, more than that, I took stock of the people who were there. Writers are great people watchers, always looking for inspiration for the next character. In fact, I have a sign on my desk that says, “Novelist at work. Bystanders may be written into the story.”

There were couples, older than me, who came to work out together. There was a gaggle of teenage girls on treadmills (it is called a gaggle, is it not?). There were a couple guys who were obviously gym-goers and took it pretty seriously, and a few more random people. What I like about this gym is that there truly are all kinds of people who go there, but I have not run into the, “Bruh, do you even lift?” crowd. I realized, looking around, that we are all in the same place, but on our own path. The reason I am there is not the reason the girls on the treadmill are there, or same reason the guy dressed in black with the zillion-pound free weights is there But we were all in the same area, just going separate places.

Then the personal trainer, with whom I had made an appointment (no, I did not learn my lesson) came up and we started chatting. She was obviously more comfortable being in a gym than I am, and we started talking about my impetus for getting into better shape. My intent, of course, is to improve my overall basic health and well-being. It seems like, at my age, that is a pretty important thing. 

But more than that, I felt the need to “walk the walk,” if you will, as a concealed carry and personal defense instructor. I do not teach any sort of martial arts or anything of that nature as far as personal defense, but it is obvious that out-maneuvering the bad guy in a potentially dangerous or deadly situation is much easier done when you are in shape yourself. 

As the personal trainer and I started talking, she told me she took a concealed carry class many years ago, but had never gotten her permit, so she would like to take a class with me next time I set one up. 

She also mentioned she was a real estate agent. As luck would have it, I also teach a class specific to real estate agents and their on-the-job safety. I let her know that and she told me she was interested in that class as well. Real estate agents, especially women, and especially those who work in rural areas, often put themselves in positions most of us would not normally find ourselves. They are meeting people they do not know, often in locations far away from any help they may need. What exacerbates this problem even more, is the big billboards with photos of all of the team members of a particular real estate office can serve as a menu for some predator that may just be driving by. While she understood the inherent danger in some of the things she did as part of her career, she had never thought about her face on the billboard at the edge of town.

Once again, we were in the same place, but on different paths. Our paths just happened to converge at the gym — where I was learning from her, and setting up a time and place for her to learn from me. I think, when you look at the world in that way, what an exciting world in which we live.

I feel as though we often miss opportunities to learn from one another. We all have our unique strengths and areas of learning and expertise. I started to think about that as I watched the various people walk through the gym, and while I was doing my cool down after working for almost an hour with this personal trainer, I thought about it even more. All of us, myself included, sometimes live in a silo and live our lives based on the information in that silo. That is one of the things that has been so satisfying about this career of being a journalist. I have had the opportunity to at least look into so many other people’s silos and expand my own ideas and knowledge base. 

This particular trip to the gym was a reminder for me. It reminded me, as I said, that we are all on our own path. But more importantly, it reminded me that while other paths may not be mine, there is certainly some value in them and always something to be learned. That seems like a good thought on which to start the new year.

Beckie Gaskill may be reached at [email protected] or [email protected].