Fat and flabby 58-year-old here, trying to get off my arse and go to the gym, for which I'm paying every month.
The problem is the very thought makes me want to cry. I do go, as I know I 'have' to – in order to build bone strength, maintain muscle, not die prematurely, yadda yadda – but shuffle around, doing machines, avoiding the scary free-weights area, and trying to fill 30 minutes until I can reasonably leave again. An inner monologue just starts up 'I hate this I hate this I hate this', which doesn't help matters.
It is not remotely enjoyable, I never get any better and there is no fabled 'endorphin rush'. Instead I feel this weird visceral shame about it all. If anyone comes near me, I have to look away, and often stop what I'm doing. All these people in one place doing something as intimate as improving their bodies just feels weird!
I tried running, as that is solitary and hard to make excuses to avoid, but felt similar about that. Ashamed of my ineptitude, hated feeling so knackered, and never got that 'runner's high'. Swimming is acceptable, bizarrely, but not quite enjoyable enough to make it worth the hassle involved.
Can anyone relate? And has anyone overcome the shame? I'm sure it's a hangover from hideous school PE, where the only goal was to be good enough for the team. (Obvs team sports are a total no-go area these days.)