i have become a legit, completely committed gym person. it is no longer my matchy matchy attire that keeps me going nor the excuses for new running shoes, but rather the hour plus of alone time (i completely tune out any and all other people there) that i am able to spend by myself watching sportscenter on my treadmill or listening to 'katies groove' on my ipod (which consists of everything from coldplay to outkast to kenny chesney). i love my gym time. i love going, i love running and lifting and getting a great workout in on a regular basis. let me clarify really quick here for those of you that know me and are wondering who took over my mind that once lived by the clear mantra of 'dont run unless someones chasing you' and 'i hate exercise so much id drive to the bathroom if i could', i assure you i have not become one of THOSE people. you know, the weird runners high crew who really do love running as much as they love cheesecake. i promise you, i still love cheesecake more. i have simply come to value the time it gives me with my thoughts to burn a few calories. however, last week i was traumatized.
my locker room at the gym is quaint (read small) with numerous 3 foot benches strewn about bolted securely to the floor in front of lockers. there is never more than 5 people in the locker room at one time. ever. and i like my privacy. i like showering at home with closed doors and yummy soap and the lack of athletes foot on my tiles. i like fluffy towels and clean steamy mirrors. my gym has none of these, which is why i save my naked time for home. i wish more people did. not that im bothered by naked strangers around me, but seriously, towels, people, towels. the other night after running for an hour i retreated to the locker room to lay on a bench and drink my water. the split second between sitting on the bench and laying down was just enough time for g.i. body builder jane to swoop over to my bench and have a seat on the other end. with a whole 18 inches between us, i was anxious for her to get dressed or find her towel, but whatever. it was at this moment i decided it would be more awkward for me to move to another bench and make jane uncomfortable. wouldnt want to make anyone uncomfortable, would we?? so i sat. and focused on my hydrating. and then she started stretching. stretching. as in yoga on MY bench NAKED. really? still no towel available, jane? or maybe that bench right over there with no one on it would work? why is this bench with awkward me now so focused on my water bottle i think i could light it on fire with just my concentration so appealing? and why wouldnt you take advantage of those awesome mats out in the gym conveniently there for you guessed it, stretching? why must you be here so close to me and so naked that im now wishing i was anywhere else...you know so this wouldnt be so awkward? apparently, jane couldnt hear me thinking so the stretching continued for quite some time (like most wonderfully pleasant situations) before i casually got up and exited stage right.
and i do still love my gym time and i dont mind my locker room time, but the towels need to be bigger and mandatory and the benches need to be smaller and made for one, preferably non stretching person. and perhaps under all the signs of 'cell phone use prohibited' and 'towels only, please' there could be just one more, 'no naked stretching on benches, please'. i feel better already. thanks for letting me purge.
