The Aspen Club: Time to burn off the frozen pizzas and 2-liter Cokes |

The Aspen Club: Time to burn off the frozen pizzas and 2-liter Cokes

Jordan Curet/The Aspen Times

It’s time to confess: I’m in dire need of some exercise. My general level of activity is pitiful. My diet is appalling. I look like a 14-year-old with a drinking problem. When I sit, my stomach resembles four deflated soccer balls stacked on top of each other. I ran into Basalt baseball coach Rick Ryan and his wife a few days ago as I was coming out of City Market. After noticing my two plastic bags were filled with frozen pizzas, two frozen dinners, a 2-liter bottle of Coke and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, his wife remarked, “My mom wouldn’t let me eat like that.” The incident would’ve been infinitely more embarrassing had there been a sale on Wavy Lay’s and gummy bears. Still, it got me thinking.When the lifts closed, I went into offseason hibernation. But now it’s time to get back in shape. I have three months before I attend my college roommate’s wedding, and I want to make my tuxedo proud. So, albeit begrudgingly, I joined the Aspen Club earlier this week. (The wall-sits and calf-raises in the shower haven’t produced the desired results, but they sure create quite a mental picture, eh? Activate that gag reflex.)I walked into the Club early Monday morning and immediately felt weak in the knees; it’s the same feeling I experience when shopping with my mother. I signed in and exchanged my car keys for a locker-room key.There would be no easy escape. I passed the treadmills, walked down the stairs and headed for the free weights. Maybe it’s me, but this gym reminds me of the Roman Coliseum; the people jogging and the passers-by on the second floor can watch me lift weights. They can judge me. They can share a laugh at my expense.Wait long enough and you could see me mangle a limb in the leg press. Now that’s worth the price of admission. Inevitably, I took a seat next to the Hulk’s body double. While I was struggling to complete butterflies with two 25-pound dumbbells, he was benching a Volkswagen. I used every inch of my body to lift those weights; I gritted my teeth, lifted my feet, tucked my knees and squirmed repeatedly from side to side – a beached whale having a seizure.It wasn’t my finest moment. Maybe I should save myself the embarrassment and buy one of those Chuck Norris-peddled Total Gyms. I’m sure the guy needs the money (seriously, have you seen him act?). Instead, I’ll keep my head down, keep on pounding out the reps and wait for those hidden muscles to reveal themselves. I plan to return to the Club just as soon as the feeling returns to my extremities and when donning a T-shirt ceases to be a painful, 10-minute ordeal. I’m committed. I want my belt to buckle, not my chair. Jon Maletz’s e-mail address is

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