I'm happy to report that I've turned into a gym rat, which means I've managed to drag my lazy ass to the gym two days in a row. Yesterday, after a slow start, I managed to do a fair amount of lifting. My favorite moment came when I asked one of the over inflated muscle dudes for a little assistance with something that was questionably too heavy for me. He asked me if I needed a spot. He was a nice enough guy and together we moved one of the weight benches into place. He did chuckle a bit as I picked up the 25 pound dumbbells for a little bench pressing.
This encounter was not unusual for me as I'm not a good gym guy. I don't dress in the proper attire(if there is such a thing), I wear big "coconut half" head phones and I have a tendency to sing out loud. In a past post I've discussed the questionable etiquette in the men's locker room, but I have to admit that singing out loud in the men's locker room isn't particularly cool either. I should at least monitor my play list a little and grunt a little Metallica instead of "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go." If you're getting a vision of me prancing around the locker room shouting, "Jitterbug", then you're on the right track.
Yesterday, as I was on the treadmill, I decided that I would kick it up a few notches and start running. All was cool and I was jamming while running to a little Pearl Jam when the guy next to me flinched. It seems that the "way too long" cord from my iPod was smacking him as I was swinging my arms. Swing your arms, you say? Yes, my mechanics aren't the best. My running is somewhat reminiscent of a one year old being attacked by bees while chasing after the ice cream man. Anyway, I shouted, "Sorry" at him over my music. He was not wearing headphones and didn't require my screaming, but I'm sure he appreciated the sentiment.
As far as different exercises go, I prefer some of the ab work. It's not so much that exercises are fun, it's just that for a lot of them I get to lay down. I always try to catch a few quick Z's when I'm down on the mat, but Deb says that it's way too obvious. Maybe I should switch to an actual exercise position instead of the fetal position. The drooling and snoring doesn't help either. Speaking of drooling, I find it a little annoying when I walk by the ladies doing the thigh exercises. I swear, I'm not looking at you, so save your dirty looks for the actual perverts that cruise the machine area. I'm tired of the scowls of the eighty year old geriatrics doing the Thigh Master, so step off Grandma Moses.
I also find it a little distressing that at least one of the televisions in the cardio room always has an infomercial about some crazy work out routine. If it's not PX90, it's some other program called "Insanity, or "Push Till Death." It's frustrating seeing a bunch of cut and ripped people working out harder than I am, plus it distracts me from my People magazine. One other thing about the machines in the cardio room; I know I've done this a bunch of times and you may have as well. Have you ever gotten off a machine to grab the stuff to wipe down the machine and forget which one you were on? I have no doubt that my fellow runners, walkers and joggers have seen me wiping down a random treadmill and questioned their own work out buddy as to what I was doing. I imagine the typical response is something along the lines of, "Do you see his head phones, he's obviously a little slow. Just leave him alone and don't touch his ears."
The steam room and sauna are my reward for working out and they are the things I really look forward to, but they're not without their issues. I still can't understand why guys insist on going into the hot tub naked. I mean if we were all away for a guy's weekend and there was a hot tub at the hotel or house, we wouldn't be naked in it would we? The same goes for the steam room. I'm proud to report that I always go into either of these things with a swimsuit. That's not cool you say? Well, I say tough shit! I'm not sitting in your funky, gross, hairy guy ass and ball bag broth. Quite honestly, I'm considering purchasing a wet suit.
The other thing that I do in the steam room is bring my own aromatherapy. Due to the unpleasantness that I just mentioned, the steam room smells just a little funky. I picked up a small bottle of eucalyptus oil the last time I was in Australia. I pour a little on a paper towel and hold it near my face when I'm sitting there. It's probably a funny site seeing this big pasty guy with his face in a paper towel. I think some of the old dudes think I'm huffing chemicals as part of some hippie homoerotic adventure, but I don't really give a crap.
Yesterday, while I was in the men's hot tub which is in the far end of the men's locker room, pretty much away from anything else, I had a visitor. An old gentleman brought a stool over and sat next to the hot tub. He never got in, he just sat in the corner on this little white plastic stool. I thought to myself, "Great, this guy is going to want to talk to me. Another Calgon moment goes bye bye." And of course I was right, straight away, the guy started babbling. If that wasn't enough of an issue, I couldn't hear a damned thing he said over the water jets. He was talking and talking and I just sat there smiling and nodding my head. He was probably asking, "Hey, you want to go into the steam room and check my prostate for me?" I kept smiling and nodding in the affirmative.
As this was happening my mind started to wander. I was temporarily transported back to the many days, or should I say nights where my buddies and I would go to dance clubs to meet girls. I couldn't hear the damned thing there either. This was a real disadvantage for me because I didn't possess the looks or the style that my buddies had and I had to rely on dialogue to make any headway, without it, I might as well have been wearing my goofy headphones.
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