(Written last night. I tell you this because I'm too lazy to go back and change all the references to "today" and "tonight.")
I felt crappy today, but it's my gym day and I hate when I miss my workouts. So I battled the lovely Memphis traffic, including a Memphis cop who turned his blue lights on to tell a dumb Cordova fuckwit to get the hell out of the middle of the road or else prepare for a ticket and a taser dance, and I went home and changed clothes. I fumbled about for awhile, not able to make up my mind if I was going or not. It's been SO crowded lately and despite the hot young girls that are in amongst the crowd I still hate it.
Maybe if I wait one more day, maybe that one extra day will eliminate enough of the New Year's Resolution People to give me some breathing room again?
Little did I realize how badly I was going to need that breathing room.
Finally I put on my '80s fashion gym clothes and swallowed my oh so tasty protein and creatine drink before heading out.
"Please tape 'Scrubs' for me. I don't mind missing the rest, but please tape Scrubs," I said to My Lovely Wife as I left the house and she anxiously prepared to watch 'House.' I had already set up the VCR in the bedroom to tape it, but this Korean Magnavox VCR/DVD creation is a mystery that neither I, the family Genius, nor My Wife, the family Accountant, have been fully able to master. Able ... willing ... whatever. We just don't care enough to learn it. How pathetic is that?
As soon as I arrived at the gym it was clear that I was going to have trouble. There was nowhere to park anywhere near the building. I ended up parking way at the back of the parking lot.
"Maybe they're ALL here for the basketball game?" I thought hopefully.
I went inside and seeing the people at the desk swamped with guests I decided to cheat and look around before paying my money. Yes, I hope to move sometime this year so I have not purchased an actual membership. I pay as I play. Anyway, I walked all around the gym. Packed like sardines it was in there. The upstairs militia training room was packed with stomping, kicking, vicious women training to become Green Berets or something and all practicing crotch kicks on large heavy black pads. All the treadmills and various machines were filled with smiling sweaty girls and graying flabby men. Ah, but the freeweights were not crowded at all! Ha! Just as I expected!
So I went back to the front desk and asked "is there any particular night that is less crowded than others?"
"Nope, but everyone usually clears out after class ends. We advertised this new fighting class pretty heavily and there are a lot of people here for that."
Great, a gym filled with psychotic women and me. This is a dream come true. No wait, this is middle school. No, I'll never go there again! I thought we had agreed never to think of this again! Back to the present. I need to work out.
I went to the locker room and changed clothes. I didn't find any more wallets so I went on out to the gym and started getting the weights I needed.
It's funny how incredibly crowded the gym was, and yet I was able to use not one, but two benches at the same time, without inconveniencing anyone. Me and a couple of guys were all that was over in the sweaty freeweight area.
I was late getting there and pushed for time. So I pushed myself hard. I lowered the amount of weight I used and rested less between sets. I figured I could use the change-up anyway. But I forgot how pathetic I am. After abs, 6 sets of dumbbell presses and pulldowns, more abs, 6 sets of dumbbell deltoid raises, and still more abs, it was time to do nose busters and barbell curls. I loaded up the bar. This was all that was left before legs. This was all I had to get through and then I had to find a treadmill and run my ass off because I really, really want to be done running by 9 p.m. or else I won't be able to cool down enough to get to sleep tonight.
So I started cranking out the nose busters, which is when you lie on your back on a bench and hold the curl bar straight up. Then you lower it using only your triceps until it comes to your nose. Then you raise it up fast again. You just keep doing this until your triceps swell up and threaten to drop the bar on your face. At that point you're done. Combine this with curls and you've got a perfect set. So I was cranking along.
Uh oh, I'm getting that "slowly getting sick feeling." I could feel my body starting to warn me that I was in the red zone. I was slowly getting sick and once it begins it doesn't stop. This always means I have only a very few sets left in me before I either puke or pass out. I got to my fifth set of this and then had to put my head between my knees. But it kept getting worse. I began to realize that I was definitely going to pass out AND puke. I laid back flat on the bench looking up into the lights. Damn, those lights are bright.
"Wait, I shouldn't lay on my back. If I pass out and then puke anyway I'll die. Drowning in my own vomit like that guy in the news whose wife grabbed him by the balls is not how I'd prefer to go."
I sat up and actually resorted to dumping my water bottle over my head to try to cool myself down and help me recover. It made a mess, but didn't really help me any.
So I laid down in the middle of the floor in the middle of this very tightly packed gym. I then became aware of a man standing next to me helping some hot young girl work out. They were practically standing on top of me. She was pretty hot indeed and now, oh happy day, she was staring at this sweaty guy lying in the floor of the gym. The guy she was with asked if I was OK and then said I should put my feet up on the bench so they'd be higher than my head, which I did.
Lovely. This is the impression I always want to make on hot women at the gym. Yes indeed. Hi there, I'm the pale faced guy who was lying at your feet trying not to puke the other night. Remember me?
Yeah, so awesome.
Amazingly enough no one stepped on me or dropped any weights on me while I was down there. Also, I didn't puke or pass out.
After awhile I was able to get up again. I wasn't dead and I wasn't finished, so I went on with my workout. Hey, I puked after every cross country race I ran in during my freshman year. I know my limitations, I just choose to push them at times. I guess this would be one of those times. Any thought of quitting and going home immediately ends when I look in the mirror at myself and then look at the women in the gym. I have work to do. Lots of work. If I'm not dead then I need to get back at it.
I did another round of abs and then I started looking for a treadmill. My knee has hurt all day and I've been having doubts about trying to run, but again, the mirror tells me to get a move on. So I started running. My knee kept bugging me. Finally I decided it wouldn't hurt me to do something different and maybe shake up my leg muscles a bit. So I moved to the elliptical thing, thinking my knee would be better off. After awhile I found myself in a daze. There was some old guy on the elliptical next to me. The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader tryouts was on TV in front of me. I gradually got into an awkward groove and faded into my own world. Periodically I would look upstairs at the class in the fishbowl room. They were still practicing crushing groin kicks on large hand-held kick pads. Looking at them up there made me feel instantly tired, like I should go lie down somewhere and give up. But I couldn't.
At one point I became aware of a guy and a girl on the treadmills in front of me and to my left. They were staring back over their shoulders at me. "What the hell are they looking at me for?"
I suddenly realized I had been staring mindlessly at the ass of a girl on the treadmill in front of me. She was wearing lime green sweatpants with the word "pink" written across her rather impressive ass. I didn't even realize I was looking at her, but I was apparently so fascinated by the contradiction of the green pants labeled "pink" that those other 2 treadmill runners had noticed. The green ass girl must have been anywhere from 14 to 19 years old. I couldn't say for sure. She was with her mom who was on the treadmill next to her, apparently unaware of my laser like focus on her daughter's fine hypnotic ass.
Oops.
So I started to look around for awhile. Upstairs, the women's militia were still kicking the shit out of crotches. They had music going so they could do it in rhythm now, like some sort of sick dance. They had been doing this for the entire time I had been at the gym and I began to wonder if they ever got tired of it. Surely their feet must be killing them by now after kicking all those imaginary crotches?
The green "Pink" assed girl and her mom eventually finished and got off the treadmills. Then, oddly enough, the girl who had been staring at me while I was staring at the green "Pink" ass girl came over and got on the treadmill directly in front of me.
Um, what? She had been on the treadmill next to that guy and now she's moved over to the one directly in front of me. And oh look at this, she's got on a pair of pink sweatpants with "Pink" written across the ass, too! WTF? Is this some sort of girl gang insignia? Do girls who have "Pink" written on their asses have a thing for getting those asses stared at? Is that why there's writing back there in the first place? OK, fine by me. I won't complain. If you want me to read your ass I guess I will.
But then, unfortunately for the new "Pink" assed girl, the hot girl who had been standing over me as I was lying in the floor trying not to puke came over. She got on the very treadmill that the pink "Pink" assed girl had gotten off of, to my left. She was much hotter than the pink "Pink" assed girl, being dressed in tight shorts and a tight tank top as she was. Most of the girls at the gym were wearing sweatpants and t-shirts, but a few who clearly know they are hot wear much tighter and fewer clothes. So I was distracted from the pink-assed girl by the blonde in the tank top who had nothing written across her ass. I know this because I checked.
As all of this excitement was going on I was becoming increasingly aware that my knee was bugging the hell out of me. Maybe I'm having my period? No, wait. That can't be right. I'm a guy.
I did 4.16 miles on the elliptical machine, stopping at one point to go backwards and see what that would do. What it did was to load up my quads with lactic acid faster than you can say "that girl has implants." But I took this to mean that I was benefiting from the change and so I kept doing it. At 9 p.m. on the dot I stopped and got off the machine. The old guy who had been next to me was still going. Bastard. Aren't you tired yet?
So, over to the ab area again. There were 2 hot girls already there working on their flawless abs for some reason. I went over to a corner and started working my own rather flawed and non-awesome abs. 2 more girls came over and basically surrounded me. So there I was, thrusting my crotch and chest upwards while surrounded by 4 girls who were laid out in front of me doing similarly odd-looking things. I tried not to think of perverted things. I tried to ignore them all. I could still see the women's militia upstairs in the big fishbowl room still practicing groin kicks. I tried to shut it all out of my mind and just disappear into my workout.
Finally I was done. I went over to the staircase where no one ever is and started stretching. Just then the women's militia came down the stairs. Wouldn't you know it? They were all worn out from hours and hours of crotch kicking. I was all worn out, too. I changed clothes and went home.
I still don't know if I got "Scrubs" on tape or not. But I hope so. I'm gonna be tired Wednesday night and in need of something to watch while sitting completely still on the couch like a potato all night long.
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