For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with the gym. While I love the idea of going, I always seem to hate it once I’m there. I don’t like the smells, or the lines, or the fact I can’t ever seem to find the start button on anything. Most of all, I don’t like the fact that the gym is never any fun.

But with the New Year, I’ve decided to renew my annual “get healthy” resolution of old. I started thinking back to what Kenny O’Neal, owner of KO’s Fitness, told me last January: “You’ve got to make exercising fun,” he said. “That’s the biggest thing. If you’re not enjoying it, you won’t stick with it.”

So this year, I’ve resolved to ditch my gym ways of old. In an effort to “make it fun,” I’ve decided to succumb to the ever-popular world of alternative exercises. The hope is that by experiencing a variety of things, I’ll find something that sticks. And who knows, maybe I’ll have a little fun in the process.

Day 1: Zumba

My walk down Resolution Road started in the lobby of the Central YMCA. That’s where I met Cortney Wilson, certified Zumba instructor and owner of the mobile fitness company FiF Element. FiF stands for Fitness is Fun, two words that always seemed contradictory to me.

If there was ever someone to make fitness fun, though, it’s Wilson. Within minutes, her electric personality had me feeling more energized and relaxed at the same time. That is until she told me what Zumba was — an aerobic-style workout combining high-energy music with Latin-style dance.

Now, it’s important to note that I lack something that’s essential for Zumba — rhythm. So using dance moves to get in shape seemed about as deadly as using a chainsaw to cut my hair.

“I’m not too sure about this,” I told her just before she kicked off the class.

“Oh, you’ll do great,” she said. “Just remember there aren’t any wrong moves in Zumba. Do your own thing and have fun with it.”

A few minutes later, we were off, moving to the spellbinding beats of Latin America. Well, almost everyone was moving. Me? I was sort of tapping my foot and bobbing my head, my only dance moves to speak of. I managed to slide my way from the middle of the room to the very back where, thankfully, another guy was struggling to find his rhythm. We formed an unspoken camaraderie, he and I; kind of an “I won’t laugh if you don’t laugh” bond.

I shuffled around for the next 15 minutes; halfway dancing, halfway hiding, but working up a surprising sweat. Zumba, it seems, is a workout that sneaks up on you. Since the music never slows down, you’re constantly in motion.

“Don’t be shy back there,” Wilson said over the P.A., eyes fixated on me. “You just do you, alright?”

“You just do you,” she repeated.

It’s a line that stuck with me. I took a look around at the rest of the class, taking notice of something my fear of embarrassment had caused me to overlook: No one was looking at me. In fact, they weren’t really looking at anything. They were just free-styling in their own little worlds. While Wilson was guiding them using step counts and dance moves, she was also letting the class improvise as they pleased.

That’s when I decided to just go with it. “You do you,” I kept thinking. Before I knew it, I was moving with the best of ’em. The merengue, the salsa, the flamenco, I did it all. Well, I tried to at least.

About halfway through, I noticed that I hadn’t stopped smiling the entire class. I even developed a little fan club that cheered me on as I salsa-cized around the room (looking back, they were probably just laughing at me, but still).

Wilson had done exactly what her company aims to do. She’d somehow made fitness fun.

Day 2: Pilates

Fresh off the Zumba experiment, I headed to another workout seemingly reserved for women — Pilates. 

I booked a private lesson at Your Pilates Place along Country Club Road. Though small and full of ominous-looking equipment, it felt surprisingly welcoming. Furthermore, it didn’t seem a bit girly.

Co-owner Amy Dixon met me at the door with a smile. “Pilates is all about strengthening within your range of motion,” she said. “We focus on the core muscles of the body; the powerhouse, as we call it.”

Though Hollywood recently pushed Pilates to the forefront of American culture, it’s actually been around for nearly a century. Dixon points to a picture on the studio’s far wall of Joseph Pilates, a German boxer/gymnast who created the workout in the late 1800s. Using nothing more than bedsprings and horse straps, Mr. Pilates helped rehabilitate countless bedridden veterans during the first World War.

Dixon introduced me to Laura Shelton, the other owner of Your Pilates Place. She was going to be my personal trainer for the next hour.
“They call me Sarge,” she said, halfway smiling. That should’ve been my clue that Pilates was no joke.

Shelton used to build highways for a living, and at one point, owned a construction company. She was a licensed plumber, road-grader, and was even licensed to “blow things up.” Needless to say, she wasn’t the girly type, but had a lively charm about her that was refreshing.

We started on a machine called the Reformer — aptly named, I decided, because it immediately reformed my view of Pilates.

Before long, I found myself bending, twisting, and crunching into a tornado of pain. I was using muscles I forgot even existed.

“Abs tight, back arched!” Shelton commanded.

I was on that machine for what felt like my entire life until I heard the words I was nearly dying to hear.

“Ok, you can stop now.”

“That was it?” I said, trying to retain a shred of masculinity. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Oh, that was just the warm-up,” she replied. “Now we’re ready to go!”

Surprisingly though, I made it through Pilates without dying. The workout actually became pretty fun once I accepted the fact that it was indeed tough. It’s not that you’re overworking your muscles, it’s just that you’re working them in ways they’ve rarely worked before.

Before I left, I made it a point to ask Shelton if she’s that tough on all her newcomers.

“Oh, no,” she said, laughing. “Pilates is something you can mold to fit any fitness level. It can be as hard as it needs to be.”

“But,” she continued, “I couldn’t let you walk out of here thinking Pilates was easy.”

Mission accomplished.

Day 3: Yoga

After a humbling experience at Pilates, I headed for another class where humiliation seemed inevitable — yoga. From everything I’d seen on TV, yoga wasn’t a workout for the adamantly inflexible like myself. Instead, it seemed reserved for the infinitely bendy people of the world. People like Meghan Prior.
Prior and her husband, Noel Parenti, opened New Planet Yoga on Burke Street about a year ago. In its previous life, the building housed the nightclub Rubber Soul. The couple completely revamped the space, putting down wood floors, knocking down a central divider, and giving the walls a calming coat of beige paint. They even added a waterfall in the lobby for effect.

I asked Prior how yoga — which got its start some 5,000 years ago in India — had remained so popular for so long. “I think because of the benefits it provides,” she said. “My students say it helps them sleep better and gives them more energy at work. I also hear it helps them feel more comfortable in their bodies.”

I grabbed my mat, removed my shoes, and took a seat inside the studio. I decided to bypass the beginner course and went straight to a class called Chakra Charge, which Prior labeled “moderately vigorous.” Maybe not the wisest choice.

We started off with a breathing exercise that, much to my surprise, was a bit of a challenge. “I’m not even good at breathing?” I thought. “This isn’t going to go well.”

From there, we went into the poses, which are really at the heart of any yoga practice. Because of the pattern-like nature of poses, I found myself picking up pretty quickly.

That’s not to say my poses were even remotely correct, however. Take the “dog pose” for instance. Instead of resembling a dog, I’m pretty sure my pose looked more like roadkill. Or at the very least, a dog that likes to sit in awkward positions.

Still, there was something likeable about the class, and I think it was Prior. Friendly, perceptive, and armed with a soothing voice, she seems like someone destined to teach yoga. No matter how many times I toppled over, she was right there to tell me I was “doing great.”

The highlight of the class, though, was the last 20 minutes. That’s when the poses stop and you’re encouraged to simply relax (I guess meditate would be the correct term). It felt a lot like naptime in kindergarten, and for a second, I thought I might doze off. That is until something unexplainable happened.

Along my quad, I felt a sudden charge of energy; almost like someone was rubbing my leg. I shot up and looked around, but there was no one there. Everyone, including Prior, was relaxing on their own mats. I laid back and started to drift off until ZING, it happened again.

Were the charges cosmic? Were they divine? Were they simply my legs saying “stop killing us?” I really don’t know. But I think it’s worth a trip back to find out.

Day 4: Metabolic Effect

Day four didn’t start out so great. My alarm sounded at 5 a.m., an unfortunate time for anyone to be awake. Sore from three days of exercise, I slumped out of bed and grimaced my way to the closet. Outside, the December air was a frigid 28 degrees. For a normal workout, this wouldn’t be much of a problem. But Metabolic Effect (ME) was no normal workout. It was early, it was intense, and it was outside.

Brothers Jade and Keoni Teta started holding ME classes in 2004. Winston-Salem natives, both are licensed naturopathic physicians with extensive work training high-performing athletes. Through their studies, they’ve theorized that quick, high-intensity workouts are more effective than marathon sessions at the gym when it comes to burning fat. In essence, they train their clients like they would train a professional athlete. The ME trend caught on quickly, as the 30-minute workout is now performed all over the country in addition to all over town.

“We take a quality-not-quantity approach to exercising,” Jade says. “All you need is a mat and some dumbbells to do it.”

Make that a mat, some dumbbells, and an ironclad will — the latter of which I was struggling with as I pulled into the Reynolda Village parking lot, one of the many sites ME uses as a workspace. As I crawled out of my car, I heard Jade’s voice ripping through the darkness. “Let’s start pushing it, guys!”
Jade seems to balance his intensity with plenty of encouragement, a tactic that effectively kicked me into high gear.

For a while I sprinted, jumped, and pushed with a spirited recklessness I didn’t even know I had. Maybe it was the blistering cold or the frantic pace, but the workout struck the right chord of self-abnegation with me: “No pain, no gain!” I chanted to myself as I chugged along.

I continued on this death-inducing pace for another five minutes or so. After that, I started slowing down. Worst of all, the Bojangles’ biscuit I had on the way started making its presence known.

I eventually came to a complete halt, too tired to even jog. I hunched over and accepted defeat, thinking about sneaking back to the warmth of my car. But before I could, Jade spotted me.

“That’s it,” he said. “Don’t be afraid to rest. As soon as you’re ready to go, start pushing again.” Later, Jade would tell me that resting is really the key to the whole workout. “We want you to go 100 percent or not go at all,” he said. “A lot of people perceive Metabolic Effect as really hardcore, but it’s only as hard as you want to make it.”

I left Reynolda Village feeling pretty good about the workout. Since my schedule is typically jam-packed, it’s nice to find something that pushes you to the max in a short timeframe. Word of warning, though — you’ll probably want to hold off on the Bojangles’ until afterward.

Day 5: Rest

As I sit here on Day 5, I’m having a hard time even holding my arms out toward the keyboard. I’d like to say that the aches and pains are small prices to pay for the self-satisfaction I’m feeling; that I’m now blessed with a spirited new outlook on life. I’m still holding out hope for that, but right now, I’m just sore.

That’s not to say I didn’t learn anything, though. If there’s one thing that sticks out, it’s that exercising doesn’t have to be so routine. There were moments when I was genuinely enjoying myself out there — moments that made me think that maybe, just maybe, I’ll make good on that resolution after all.

THE WORKOUTS

Metabolic Effect holds a variety of classes at varying locations across the city. While the original ME workout is outdoors, there’s also a modified indoor version. For a look at the schedule or to become a member, go to metaboliceffect.com