Friday 8 May 2009

Health club type places

So I have just been to a health club type place in the basement of a hotel, where all hotels keep their health club type places, and I spent a couple of hours meandering between sauna, freezing cold plunge pool (coldest I have ever been in, other than winter ocean) and steam. The sauna and steam room were good and properly hot, and I now feel magnificent. It is as though there had been a layer of crud all around me, like in my aura or someshit, and it has now been cleaned away. And I only know this because I can feel the absence of the layer of crud from my aura. That is how I know. By tomorrow morning this feeling of the absence of the layer of crud will have vanished, and I will again no longer know whether I have a layer of crud building around me.

I've been trying out various health club type places, and this is the only one with a cold plunge pool, which really is an essential aspect of the whole thing for me. The cold plunge pool is where it all happens. It's the salt in the sea, the msg in the chop suey, it's the butter in the mash, the gravy on the roast. I feel intensely clean, relaxed, profoundly contented and very, very antisocial.

UPDATE: ok, as I was falling asleep for my nap directly after having written this, I found myself thinking: not antisocial, of course, but unsocial. Antisocial would be flinging peanuts at people having chats. Unsocial is crawling under your duvet for the winter, because you understand burrowing creatures' need to hibernate.

2 comments:

  1. I felt something like what you speak of during the one and only time I spent a whole week at a spa-type place. (It was the place in Mexico where famous people go, the place that is expensive by my standards but costs half as much as others that purport to offer the same). It wasn't a cold-plunge pool as did it but the 6:30 am mountain/foothill hike. The hike was not mandatory -- hell, nothing was mandatory -- they had your money, but seeing as how they had your money, you would have felt a fool not to have gone with the program. Anyway, I'd jolt myself up at six, throw on clothes and hiking boots, scamper to the building where people quaffed coffee or tea and nibbled fruit and assembled into groups, then set off and up a trail.

    It felt really good. I've tried to do the same here where I live. I got hills. I got clothes. I got boots. But I'm fundamentally a lazy slut, and I do it intermittently. There's something to the business of others' expectations, at least for me. Why living the solitary country life is not perhaps so good.

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  2. It's like breakfast in hotels, too. They make it, you eat it. Breakfast in hotels is always thrilling. I have just had a large nap, and now I find myself feeling exactly - EXACTLY - as I did before the nap. Porgy and Bess is starting on the telly. We have icecream. Amn't I supposed to be tweeting this? The cats are meowing. I am confused.

    Isn't it amazing how a couple of hours of treating yourself like tectonic plates at the formation of the continents can leave you feeling so fantastic and also so debilitated?

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