“Wrong way,” said the woman behind the ID scanner in the CPA. I turned my card around and slid it again – bingo.
I probably would have figured out which way to slide my card by now if I had graced the gym with my presence a little more throughout my three years at ETSU.
My eyes scanned the large room filled with treadmills and ellipticals and I felt slightly overwhelmed.
My roommate, a frequent CPA-goer, did not share my sentiment as she put on her tennis shoes and pulled her hair into a ponytail. She meant business and I knew it.
We wandered through the labyrinth of workout machines and I became very thankful that I had someone with me who could show me how it’s all done.
“Stick your butt out and keep your back straight,” she said, demonstrating in front of the mirror.
Looks easy enough, I thought. I lowered the bar in my hands and concentrated (probably a little too much) on sticking my back-end out. I suddenly felt extremely silly and became very aware of my surroundings as I attempted this less-than-glamorous maneuver.
“You’re bending your back too much,” said my roommate as she examined my stance.
I nervously glanced around my shoulder, making sure no one noticed the “new girl” in the gym.
My roommate interrupted my thoughts, “Nobody is even paying attention to you,” she said. We’ve been best friends since sixth grade so I’m fairly used to her reading my mind by now.
I attempted this maneuver again – only to have my confidence crushed once more as she removed the bar from my hands and motioned toward a different station. “We’ll try that one later,” she said, laughing under her breath.
We walked upstairs to a more secluded area, much to my delight, and began lifting weights. I was handed a 6-pound weight and told to mimic my roommate’s arm motions.
This left me feeling almost as silly as the last number had, especially as I looked around at all of the people jogging on the track. Girls with iPods strapped to their defined arms went bobbing by, and I began to feel like I didn’t belong.
I reached down to tie my shoelaces before getting on the stationary bike. It is probably worth noting that the tennis shoes I was wearing belonged to my roommate.
Apparently hiking shoes and Chuck Taylor’s are not appropriate footwear at the gym.
Seven miles later, and 90 calories fewer, I stepped off the bike and walked toward the water fountain. My legs felt as though they had gained 10 inches in girth as I hobbled like the Hulk to get a drink.
It is now day five of my CPA introduction and I’m getting a little more used to the different machines. I still feel a bit like a circus clown without a clue, but I’m slowly learning the ropes. And my calves are hurting, which I hear is good.
So if you see an awkward 20-year-old woman in the CPA with a puzzled look on her face, feel free to point and laugh.

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