Yesterday, I went to the gym for the first time in five years. For two hours.

Being tenants in this building entitles us to go to the Hiranandani ‘clubhouse’, located about a kilometre away. I was kindly taken there as a guest (until my paperwork is sorted out).

One must wear street shoes to the gym and change into sports shoes immediately outside the gym room, which makes sense given that the streets, even in our upscale neighbourhood, are so dirty. The gym is about the size of a large waiting room, and my friend and I went there during “ladies’ time” – presumably not to be confused with business time.

The gym has the usual cardio machines (but no rowing machine, sadly), free weights, and weight machines. It doesn’t have any kind of area for floor exercises or stretching, and the floor itself was hard. I noticed that the Indian women doing weights didn’t do the common 3 sets of 10-12 reps – their approach seemed to be to do one or two reps at a heavy weight, rest for a while, and repeat. There were women of all ages, including a regal older lady in a saffron-coloured shalwar kameez, serenely cycling.

I did about 45-50 mins on the cardio machines and spent the rest of the time doing weights. The boringness of gym workouts without music had slipped my mind. I had thought I was doing ok with the weights until it was pointed out to me that the units were in fact pounds, not kilograms.

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