Had to go to gym today. The same gym I used to bounce into four times a week, do my hour and 25 minutes workout, shower and then leave. Will sometimes shower (saturday and sunday mornings) and sometimes not (Mondays and the other weekday). And if I was in a hurry to go somewhere, did less, say 45 minutes or whatever.
Anyway, once I chose my oncologist, he banned me from the gym, even before I started treatment. I distinctly remember roaming around Hyde Park one evening and bumped into my friend Eugenie and explaining that I was on my way to Pick n Pay supermarket to buy one item, just one item (doubt I actually walked out with only one though), because quite frankly I was at a dead loss as to what to do with myself. Early evening was my gym time - and now what was I to do?
Once I started treatment, my nice euphemism for chemo, don't think I missed gym, dunno. But do remember I felt quite sad when I drove passed it the first time. Had a panging, a longing.... it was the place where I .. what's that cliched term? It was "me time". Oh not that I have kids or anything like that, but it was the one time I did not have to think but could just focus on what I was doing physically. And think about my breathing. And just feel good about life.
Then today went back. Thought about what I wore today very carefully cos today was the day I was going to the gym. Wore a pink cap with a butterfly on the side. Think I detest if if I think about it. Dunno.
Sat coyly on the seat and waited for my appointment with the biokineticist and felt like crying. SMS-ed The Empathetic One and he said: "it must be the violin" and I instantly felt better. Smiled. It was ok.
But later I thought: why did I feel so sad? And I think it's cos sitting there, with my hat, in my clothes, so different to the way I used to bounce in, and it was ultimately a harsh reminder of how things used to be, before I was diagnosed with cancer.