Sweat 'Til It Hurts

SWEAT ‘TIL IT HURTS



As some of you may already know after reading 5K FUN, I run more like a 3 legged Warthog, than a Cheetah. But despite this, I am going to try and do another 5K race with my daughter in May. In order to actually keep up with my child, for at least part of the race, I started working out again at the gym, which is something like hitting the restart button on an ancient furnace. There’s a lot of clanging and smoke that comes from my exhaust.
I’m not trying to become a marathon runner. In fact, I don’t need to run fast, I just want to run faster. I would be happy if my shuffle becomes speedier than that of the undead.
So, after a lengthy absence, I started going back to the YMCA, which has become very well equipped since its recent remodeling. Walking into the enormous front entrance of the new YMCA, is akin to entering the lobby of a fine hotel, with plants, a fountain, and a long counter which resembles a concierge’s desk. My first time back, I went up to the desk and asked for their penthouse suite for the night. The girl behind the desk just looked blankly at me. Clearly you lose your sense of humor when having to deal with sweaty people all day.
Typically, there is a senior citizen taking your ID card and scanning it into the computer. Often there is a smirk on their wrinkled faces; perhaps amused by all of us young(er) fools for killing ourselves at the gym. Either that or our weight is shown on the computer screen.
The Wellness Center is quite large, with a section for free weights as well as an area for the Nautilus machines. Behind that are rows of equipment designed for a cardio workout. Whoever designed the workout room is a genius. All the treadmills, my choice as instrument of torture, are placed under a row of TV sets. They are all cleverly tuned to the most mind numbing shows known to mankind. You are then forced to run as fast as you can, reaching out to try, in vain, to push the off button on the TV. No matter how fast you run, you can never quite reach it. It’s like the carrot held out in front of a fat donkey pulling a cart.
It is cruel, yet affective.
When I ran in the 5K, there were a few folks who trailed me and had the privilege of watching my butt register a 5.7 on the Rictor Scale. I wasn’t too mortified because I knew I would never have to see them again after that day. However, the same can’t be said for the poor suckers who are in the row of elliptical machines behind my treadmill at the gym. I think that I recognize some of them snickering behind my back in the grocery store.
Don’t get me wrong, I think Jay Lo and I have it going on. Of course, Jay Lo has a lot less going on in other parts of her body than I do. Even so, I believe woman are meant to be soft and curvy, and I know for a fact that my husband, God bless him, would cry like a little girl if I lost my booty.
I do wonder though, if those people on the elliptical machines behind me have a craving for Jello after watching my jiggle. I’m expecting an endorsement check from the Jello Company any day now.
With all the physical fitness going on, there is something inevitable that happens while working out, and that’s sweating. I don’t mind perspiring so much; it’s all the other people sweating that gross me out. The gym provides anti-cootie wipes so that we may conscientiously clean off the Nautilus machines when we’re done sliming them. They are very effective at spreading your perspiration around evenly onto the equipment. So when you are lying down on the Abdominal Annihilator Apparatus, working on your 6 pack, you are in reality covering yourself in a strangers sweat. The last time this happened to me was in the late 80’s, and I was drunk, but I actually enjoyed myself. At least I think I did. I’m not sure, because I was drunk, and most of the 80’s are a blur.
Speaking of strangers, the YMCA attracts a myriad of humanity who are trying to get buff. The hunks that press metal in the free weight room offer more in the way of viewing pleasure than the brain-eroding programs on the TV. Also, a number of senior citizens make use of the Wellness Center. I think it’s great that they are still physically active in their advanced years. I just wish that a course in what is appropriate fitness attire was given when they got their membership. Most of them wear their everyday street clothes of brightly colored polyester suits with shiny white Rockports. Others do make an attempt at proper workout gear by wearing sweat pants 47 sizes too big. I know we all shrink a little when we age, but these grannies look like they did all their shrinking in one day. Come to think of it, I can deal with baggy sweats when the alternative is seeing Grampa in Spandex.
Some folks at the gym are such an example of human perfection that they look as if they lift weights in their sleep. Somehow though, their clothes are unwrinkled, they don’t have a hair out of place, and their makeup is unmussed. They look so fit, yet they tend to spend a lot of their time gabbing with the other Stepford wives, I mean, friends, instead of working out. When they actually do get on a treadmill, I watch and watch them, waiting for the time when one of them does something less then perfect, like fall off. I wonder if maybe one of them will slip and get their manicure stuck in the elliptical machine. It never happens.
More annoying then the Perfect People are the woman that are Uber thin. They are not quite anorexic, but close. I recognize them by the fact that their thighs are as wide as one of my arms, and that their cheekbones could cut paper. I want to grab these poor girls and yell, “For the love of God, just eat a cheese steak, will you?” But I don’t think that would go over to well in an establishment that is a proponent of health.
I’ve tried other forms of exercise before, such as Yoga. I quickly realized that the only part of it that I enjoyed was when I got to lie down between doing the difficult postures, or while meditating. For this reason, I do enjoy the recumbent bike, because you are so reclined, that I found out that if you set the level to 0, you can take a nap while doing your cardio workout.
Now that’s my idea of multitasking.
Another favorite of mine is the Abductor/Adductor machine. This handy device works the outer and inner thigh, a problem area for many ladies. While working these spots, apparently it is of paramount importance that you spread your legs open and then close them again in the most vulgar fashion possible.
It is the naughtiest of all the Nautilus machines.
I think that it would be fun to play some really raunchy porn music while using the Abductor/Adductor machine. It would weed out the light weights, and only those serious about getting fit would remain.
Who knows, it could become a spectator sport, somewhat like pole dancing. But I warn you; look away when Grandma climbs on.

copywrite 2010 cwaldman