Going back to move forward

(adapted from a Facebook post I wrote on 8/5/20)

This morning I took a small, reasonable risk--I went back to the gym for the first time since early March. What had me heading out to my car, instead of down to the basement, was one simple thought: You never know until you try it. That, and a frustrated, pent-up urge to move forward, to make progress on something instead of just treading water and waiting for that elusive Someday.

For the most part, during the past few months I've been getting out and about as usual, but while wearing a mask and distancing. Still, there are a couple of places I've avoided completely since the start of COVID-19, and the gym is one of them.

But. Working out at home just hasn't been the same, and while I’ve dutifully adapted to Plan B in a million other areas of my life, when it comes to my physical fitness I'd decided I was done settling for the okay-but-not-as-good-as-before version.

So, mask in hand and feeling a little anxious, I went.

Pulling into that familiar parking lot again, where on the outside of the building everything still looked the same, gave me a really strange, time warp kind of feeling. It felt almost possible to convince myself that the past five months had never happened, had just been a bad dream. Could I just stay there in the car, in that little sliver of what once was, like someone soaking up the warmth from a narrow strip of sunbeam?

Unfortunately, no. I had to get out. After passing through the check-in area with its new plexiglass divider and signs about masks, I came into the big open area with the machines, which was almost completely empty.

My rational mind knew why, but on an emotional level I felt the shock of it—Gone. They're all gone. The sort-of-friends that I'd been in classes with for years and always used to chat with afterwards, and the others who were just familiar faces, whom I knew nothing about other than that they were early-bird exercisers like myself and we used to exchange polite smiles and hellos.

All of the people who normally filled this space had been removed, leaving the room in a state that I can only describe as spooky. It was as if they all had died or disappeared (or maybe been "raptured," like that book I read in high school called Left Behind.)

And yet, I got a good workout, and I felt safe, virus-wise. So I'm going back tomorrow. Things are constantly changing, but for now, going to the gym is a small risk I'm willing to take.

Because even in these strange times where so much seems broken, frozen or left hanging in space, there are still areas of our lives where we have the chance to make some forward progress. To strive for more, reach higher, become stronger is, I think, an important part of being human.

If there are ways in which we can do this without putting ourselves or others at undue risk, then by all means let's give ourselves permission to try. Let's wear our masks to protect one another, let's do what's best for the community even when it requires sacrifice on our part. This is the way of love.

But within those necessary boundaries, let's be as fully alive as we can. For me, that means taking back my gym time and the way it feels to know that I'm getting stronger. My only regret is that I waited this long to take that first step, holding caution in one hand and courage in the other. We never know what something will be like until we try.

If you've had your own experience of going back in order to move forward, I’d love to hear about it in the comments. (Fair warning: brevity is key, because the comment field has a pretty short character limit, and I haven't figured out how to increase it!)