Workin Out Ain't That Bad

It really isn't. Especially if you do it once a week. And if you go during the day, say mid morning, you can even meet some real nice people that take working out not so seriously. I find those people are usually there for the social outlet. They'll walk the treadmill at a steady 2.5 mph. Getting skinny isn't their bag. For them it's more about commenting on the tv shows plastered all over the walls and chatting up their side businesses like Mary Kay. You know it's not often a 65 year old woman can get her picture hung in the corporate offices for selling the most blush nationwide. And they chat up their kids. Talk about how smart and successful they are and it's no wonder considering all of the effort and hard work they put into raising 'em. Parents now adays are lazy and selfish. Only worrying about themselves and the fancy cars they drive. I've learned this over the last few months. And I realize I fit in with this crowd much more than the evening crowd. I also noticed the average age for the mid morning group is 60. Age is only in your mind, people.

The evening crowd is hard core. When they hit the elliptical, their feet never touch the floorboards. They're literally flying through the air. And carrying on a full conversation with the gym staff in the process.

During the morning, the gym staff sits back. There's no reason to mingle with that crew. They don't take fitness seriously so what's the point wasting your time talking to them. The trainers smile a little bit but they also don't "work the crowd." These folks aren't their bread and butter. Their gas bills won't get paid by these dirts.

Last week was an interesting one. I sandwiched myself between a man slugging a coke while walking on the treadmill and a woman bragging about the most wonderful dinner she had the night before loaded with carbs and a heavy creamy sauce. I knew if I threw my 1980s headphones on, I would be safe.

Started out real strong. Pushing myself to the limit. Beet red in the face and barely breathing. I could tell I was really burning the calories. The coke on the treadmill next to me looked good, but I had to realize my cold Dasani was much better. Toad's "Girls, Girls, Girls" started rolling on the ipod and I knew I was gonna break a personal record today. This was my day. The day the Lawrd made. I needed to keep up the pace and rock it out. Next song, "Smokin in the Boys Room" pushed me even farther. The old folks were staring in amazement (and sheer horror) and I knew I was gonna show those trainers I COULD pay their gals bills and they need to keep an eye on me. Song after song and I was working it. Then I got the dreaded tap on the shoulder. Shit. Did I look like I was going to have a heart attack? Was my singing too loud? Nope. It was the day care center. My child had shit her pants. Dammit. Time to call it a day.

Of course the old folks around me were smiling away. Why that would be humorous to them is beyond me.

So I jump off and as I am wiping down the machine I get a little snicker from Blush of the Year Saleswoman: "You know, dear, it's probably a good thing that your child soiled her pants. You are very very red and look as though you could lapse into cardiac arrest. I do just what the doctor tells me - slow and easy. No sense in overdoing it. What good are you to your family if you're dead from an over extended work out."

Janko: "Yeah right. Why kill myself, literally, to be healthy for my family? Might as well be overweight and relish in it. Fat people can be happy people, too."

I haven't been back there since.