Working Out in the Twilight Zone

After repeated requests for more stories about me torturing myself in the gym I have decided to humor you all. (As one friend so gently phrased it, "It's just funny to imagine you working out." OK, that didn't happen but if I had more conversations with people like Jenn G., Shanta, Matt W., or Jessica G. it probably would have. Tell me I'm wrong about that, Jenn.)

Jacquie and I did have one pretty interesting workout experience recently that bears recounting. To really do it justice I would need Rod Serling, host of the Twilight Zone, to give a short monologue about an unsuspecting couple that stepped through the door of their local gym to find themselves in a dimension beyond space and time in which nothing is as you expect it to be. It really was bizarre.

First, we got to the gym and found the door propped open by one of the stationary bikes which is odd. It was then that we realized that the gym was emanating some kind of strange heat. Usually, the fans are blowing full blast and the air conditioning is cranked very high. This time it felt like I was entering a sauna. I didn't know if I could work out in a furnace or not. I had already worked up a pretty good sweat walking from the apartment to the clubhouse. But, I thought I would give it a try. That was when I noticed that the gym was filled with the distinct smell of vomit. I'm not kidding. It smelled like someone had walked around the gym strategically letting loose with regurgitated food. It was sick. Soon, we realized what had actually happened. The maintenance men had painted the walls. Apparently, they went to Home Depot and found some bizarre vomit scented paint and decided that it would be appropriate for those who are exercising and dieting to work out with that smell in their nostrils. You know, as motivation not to go and stuff yourself with a huge dinner right after you leave.

The smell wasn't the only strange thing though. There was one other guy in the gym who was working with the dumbbells while admiring himself in the mirror. This was not weird. I do that all the time. What was strange was that his hair was perfectly sculpted with hair gel, he was wearing a sleeveless concert T-shirt, nice jeans, and a brand new pair of heavy duty work boots. Honestly, the guy looked like he was just passing by the gym on his way to some "black-tie" Neo-Nazi Skinhead soiree and decided his biceps could use a few curls. It was strange but I let it go. It could be somewhat explained.

So, I jumped on the recumbent bike and was doing my usual ride. Things were going well. I was huffing and puffing pretty good and I was feeling the pain. Then, out of nowhere, a thin middle-aged woman wearing a perfectly nice business outfit breezed through the open door, cell phone to ear, in full conversation with an unknown friend and jumped on the bike that was facing mine. Here, she is having a chat with someone that she kept having to remind that she loved, cranking on the pedals fast enough to generate a large air flow in my direction. I was thankful for that. I was at the if-I-go-another-minute-I-might-pass-out stage of my ride and needed some cooling off.

However, she was also crippling my will. She wasn't breathing hard at all. When I work out I breathe so hard I can't even talk to myself silently in my head much less with a friend on the phone. And her attire wasn't making it easier. She's in a pant suit and high heels not perspirating at all while I'm in athletic shorts and a v-neck undershirt that is small enough to show part of my midsection with a neck-to-navel sweat stain that's only getting bigger. That and she was pedaling just as fast as I was. It actually became a bit of a contest. We made eye contact a few times and each time we did we both began to pedal faster. At one point I thought my left leg had fallen off. It felt like it. I realized that she was actually trying to show me up. Of course, she did.

So, I quit my ride and ran over to the weight machine to lift a little before I was totally desire-less. As I did, two boys walked in wearing full skater garb and carrying boards. They layed their boards down and walked to two different machines and started working out, one on the elliptical trainer, the other on a treadmill. So, here we are, our happy little family: a skinhead, a business woman, two skaters, and Jacquie and me. Just a normal day at the gym.

Soon, it became apparent that the skaters were not there to work off those extra pounds they had accrued from school cafeteria pizza. They were just messing around. At one point, one boy had the elliptical machine going so fast I couldn't see his feet. He looked like a cartoon character running in a cloud of dust. Then, the edge of his baggy jean shorts leg got caught under his foot and he actually fell off the machine. I thought he was hurt. Business woman though he was an idiot. She stormed out of the gym only to return a few minutes later with the manager who promptly kicked my new friends out. I think its good when we crack down on those under age exercisers.

In a huff of self-righteousness, business woman plopped herself onto a bench right beside me and started doing sit-ups. But, her frustration with the boys was so great that she had to tell somebody about it. That somebody was me. She turned to me with this real serious look and started pouring out her heart. I wish I could tell you what she said but I couldn't understand her. I couldn't hear her over the sound of my own breathing or over the sound of my heart beat pounding in my ears. So, I just nodded my head and when I thought she was finished I said, "Yeah, that's bad." I have no idea what I meant by that. It was just that her facial expression said that she was telling me something bad so I decided to agree with her face. It must have been the right thing because she nodded thoughtfully and went back to doing her sit-ups.

After all that excitement, Jacquie and I headed back to the apartment to stuff ourselves with a huge meal and to try to get the smell of vomit out of our clothes.