Observations From the Treadmill

I had another rendezvous with the elliptical machine tonight. After my 45 minute romp, I was sweaty, tired, and ready to just roll over and fall asleep.

For someone who really doesn't care for large crowds of people, I do love to people watch. This probably stems from my early church years when Kant and I would sit at church dances and make snarky remarks about the Mollies trying to dance like Britney Spears in an effort to snag them an E.C. (that's Eternal Companion for you gentiles).

At any rate, with the gym, people watching is either hit or miss, depending on when you go. Last night's workout was apparently Teen Night as gaggles of the pubescent bunch were roaming around the gym. None of them wearing body deodorant.

Tonight, there was no real theme really. Just an interesting mix of people. I could see them all from my perch. It was almost like one of those Mutual of Omaha shows about wild animals in their habitat.

In front of me is a guy, late teens or early twenties, that looks like Ron Howard before he lost his hair. He's pedaling on the recumbent bike, while flipping through channels. Thankfully, he turned off Who's the Biggerst Skanky Whore hosted by Bret Michaels' wig. Then, I smelled it. A fart so rank, I could feel the my nose hairs disintegrate. Glancing around, I deduced the noxious fumes emitted from Opie. I covered my face with my blue workout towel until the threat of oxygen deprivation passed. Just a word of advice, if you plan on blowing ass, please remove yourself to a place where people are not right behind you.

Opie got off the bike shortly afterward, gave me a sheepish grin, and left. Hopefully, it was to go check his shorts.

Meanwhile, two girls enter, both relatively young tanorexics with bleached blonde hair, full makeup, and fake hooters. Accompanying them was some dude that I suspect was their handler, manager, pimp...whatever. (I'm guessing they couldn't find their way to Gold's Gym?)

One girl had the word "pink" in glitter on her ass. I assumed that was her special way of advertising.

Paris 2.0 and 2.1 set up shop on the ab machines that are also in front of me, off to the right. From my vantage point, I can see down their little tank tops. So can everyone else. Nestled in the safe confines of their silicone, are their cell phones. They would do half-assed crunches, stop, whip out their phones for some texting, finish, put their phones back in their handy little holders, and the whole scene would reply itself over and over again. Maybe they were booking, ahem, dates for later. Isn't that something their handler should have taken care of?

Off to my left is a guy grunting and straining on another elliptical machine. I watch him out of the corner of my eye because he looks like he's going to keel over with a massive coronary. I take note of the defibrillator hanging by the front desk.

Some dude is working the weight machines, rocking the crusty denim jeans that look like he's been laying under a car all day. He catches my eye and smiles a big grin with missing teeth. I vomit in my mouth a little.

Then, there are your guys who practically live in the free weights section. Their arms and chests are so big, I'm tempted to go untie their shoes for entertainment. Guys that big can't bend over and reach their shoes because they are so ripped. Someone should tell them that hitting the juice will cause their penises to shrivel up. I'm just saying...

Just in case anyone was wondering, there were no Gorilla sightings.

So, now I am safe within the warm confines of my home. I will now retire for the night. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

...OUCH!

So I went and did laps last night at the gym. I snuck into the locker room, hastily changed into my suit, and crept into the pool area without being seen. I don't particularly like wearing swimming suits, and I really don't like being seen in one.

I got into the pool, which wasn't so cold that my nipples decided to run back into the locker room and hide in my gym bag. I was all alone. Sweet!! However, it was with great dismay that I saw the hot tub was closed. I don't know why.

I managed to do a couple laps before some specimen of a guy came in. He put on the little swimmers cap, goggles, and proceeded to blow me out of the water with his physical prowess in the pool. Lap after lap after lap. Ass. One thing did puzzle me, though. He had his head shaved...why did he need to wear the cap?? It was one of those little black caps with the American flag on the side with a number...sort of like what those Olympic swimmers wear. Perhaps I was sharing the pool with an Olympic swimmer (my gym does boast that it's the official gym of the U.S. Olympic team). Maybe he was into triathlons. Or maybe he was just a wannabe who wanted to stroke his ego by showing he could out swim the fat girl in the pool.

At any rate, he stayed on one end of the pool, and I the other. I didn't do a gazillion laps like he did. I just swam at my own pace. I don't think I over did.

Of course, I now can't lift my arms over my head this morning. Getting dressed is going to be loads of fun.

Tuesday Blather

Returned to the gym last night around 1am. A total of 5 people there, including the kid working the desk, and the little Hispanic guy power spraying the floor of the women's locker room. He didn't leave when I walked in, and just kept spraying. I stood there for a minute pondering if my need to pee was great enough to shoo the guy out. I opted to leave the restroom at that time. I could always come back when he was finished. Besides, I have the bladder of a nurse...and I can hold it for HOURS.

I had initially wanted to swim some laps, but I couldn't find my swim goggles, plus my legs were as hairy as Paul's (ND!). Granted, there was no one there to critique my Sasquatch stems, but ask any swimmer and they will tell you, body hair makes you less aerodynamic.

And so again with the 10 miles on the stationary bike, this time finishing five minutes faster (just in case you were wondering, I wasn't sore the day after my initial workout). I just watched Heroes on my iPod (I've got two more episodes left). Another mile on the treadmill, and I left. I still didn't go pee.

I decided to stop at the store and pick up some groceries, namely, the essentials of any kitchen: eggs, butter, milk. I like shopping late, but don't care for weaving in and out of boxes and the store workers who are trying to empty them. After I got home, unpacked, and loaded the dishwasher, it was almost 4am.

Tomorrow, I get to visit an actual gynecologist about Heather's Adventure Kingdom and it's malfunctioning main attraction. Hopefully, the buck stops with her, and I won't have to see a doctor with the word "Oncologist" after their name. I also get to go to a four hour class on stroke patients. One of the featured speakers is the Bosshole's wife. Added bonus!

Work It Out

I paid a visit to my gym last night, around midnight...my first workout at this gym, and I mostly wanted to get a feel for the place. I gathered my water bottle, my towel, my iPod and set them on the counter. Got into the car and realized I forgot my keys in the house. Got my keys and started for the gym, only to realize that I forgot my water bottle. Thank goodness I remembered the iPod. That would have warranted an immediate turnaround. I just stopped by a gas station and bought a bottle of water.

The gym was pretty quiet, save for the crappy music they were playing. Again...thank the maker for the iPod. A few muscleheads or guys who think they are, a bleached blonde with fake boobs who was homesteading on the ab bench, a fat guy on the stairmaster that I watched carefully because I was convinced he was going to keel over with a massive heart attack. He was sweating profusely and physically draped over the handle bars. I made a mental note as to the location of the defibrillator.

Lucky me, my gym is also the same gym the Chiefs players work out at. I'm guessing the same goes for the cheerleaders. One girl with serious ghetto-booty and a fruity-looking guy were in the aerobics room going over some dance routine, which looked suspiciously like cheerleading-type moves. A cheerleader and the choreographer. I had a pretty good view from my stationary bike. Judging from the looks of the routine, the squad still hasn't improved much since I saw them perform last year.

I biked for 10 miles. Yay me. I tried one of those elliptical treadmills, and my gimpy knee actually stopped and demanded, "What's this bullshit!?!" I switched over to the regular treadmill, and walked a little over a mile before calling it good and going home. I decided that this workout was exclusively Cardio Day. The next time, will be Working With Weights Day. Swimming Day will be tossed in there as well as soon as I can figure out where I packed my goggles.