I finally snapped out of my money-stupid daze this morning. I can no longer pretend to justify the needless expense of a gym membership. Besides, with P90X and Insanity, I've accomplished much more in six months of thrashing around in my garage than I ever achieved in years of regular visits to the gym. (Plus, M and I are thinking about starting a kettlebell routine soon, which means I won't be returning regularly to the gym in the foreseeable future. M, who is much smarter than me, canceled her gym membership long ago.)
On my way to work, I stopped at the gym to cancel my membership. I was expecting a fight, having read numerous horror stories from others who've attempted to do the same. (See, for example, this and this and this and this.) But to my surprise, the process was surprisingly easy. The cancellation form took less than a minute to complete, and the only head-scratcher for me was the question of which box to check under the question: "Reason for canceling your membership?" I ended up picking "Relocation," the option closest to the truth. I am, after all, relocating my workouts from the gym to my garage.
Netflix: You're next.
