Enjoying the sights

I never thought I would say this, but I was a little glad to see the end of the ISU football season. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions, a lot of driving, freezing my butt off, and eating very unhealthy food. Ok, that last one is completely my fault, and I am dealing with the consequences.

            I went into the gym Monday running late, and that was the only type of running I felt like I could handle. Sure, I have dreaded my runs in the past, but normally I felt pretty good even if it wasn’t successful. But, ever since my week of illness and sloth, I feel like I am facing just an absolute ass-whoopin every time I walk through the doors of my gym. This must be how the Cyclones feel most games. Ok, that wasn’t fair; they did an ok job this season. I’m just bitter. I mean, I can’t make field goals either, and I could have used a scholarship….
            The gym was pretty empty when I shuffled in. I dumped my stuff into my locker and got started.
            I followed some good advice and decided to stick with the Week 5 Plan of Hell. Even if I have to struggle through it, I will push myself to get there and make progress. It actually went better than last week; I could actually finish my quarter mile intervals. Even a small improvement is an improvement. During my first half mile, I jumped to the side to quickly catch my breath. I had debated doing this versus hitting the “down” button to wait for the treadmill to creep down, and then creep back up. I made it through my half-mile interval with one short break.
            My next set of intervals didn’t go as well. I had to stop twice before struggling my way through, but I actually completed the structure of the workout, which is better than last week.
            I didn’t have time to do much else, but I figured I had time to work my abs. The only work my abs have seen lately are sucking them in to button my pants. I lay down on a sit-up machine and lament on how strong my abs used to be. I roll my head to the side to check out the clock between sets and an elderly gentleman saunters in my line of vision.

My first thought: wow, those shorts are way too short.

My second thought: um…I’m not sure he’s wearing underwear.

My third thought: Loose skin and old….yep there they are.

I almost got whiplash by how fast I turned my head away from the glimpse of junk I just saw. Good lord, what is wrong with these people? Granted, in my laying position I was at just the right angle to see it as he walked above me, but come on, keep that stuff in. Thank god for my quick reflexes, primed from having a brother whose friends who have an obsession for mooning. I owe them my preserved retinas, thank you pervert class of 2001.

As I turned my head I locked in on the scale. Ah, the mortal enemy. I have been avoiding the scale for a long time now, and it’s time to man up.

Well people, if you ever want to ensure a shitty start to your week, weigh yourself on a Monday morning after you’ve been drinking and eating crap all weekend. I was realistic about how bad things were, and I was kind of close on the number, but it was still worse than I thought.           

Well, there’s nothing like a depressing weigh-in to motivate you into seriousness. With Thanksgiving this week, this is about the worst time but I really have to get back on the good nutrition. Also, I have to really focus on getting some extra cardio and weight sessions in. No wonder I feel like I can’t run, I am carrying so much weight.

 After some intense stability ball crunches, I hurry into the locker room. T-minus 50 minutes until I have to be at work, and I have to look at least halfway decent.

My usual locker is located right in the heart of where the senior swim class congregates. Man these chicks are starting to really get on my nerves. They are just hanging out today, discussing their Thanksgiving plans.

"I told my daughter she can host Thanksgiving, because it's too much for me. But I don't like the way she is doing it so I'm going to meddle and bitch my way into taking it over, because no one is going to make a better turkey than me."

"My daughter-in-law doesn't want to use my china. Can you imagine? Girls just don't care about those things anymore. It's a shame, they just dont' want to use something that everyone is scared to eat off of or even wash because I'm biting my nails waiting for it to break. I wonder why that is."

Ok, I'm exaggerating, but that's what I hear when they talk about their trifles. I don't have time for this crap. I politely say "excuse me" "pardon me" as I desperately try to get past their idling bodies into my locker. These ladies say, "Oh, I'm sorry dear" as they make zero effort to move. I am forced to open a locker door gently into the back of one, and she finally moves. I get my stuff out and move to another part of the locker room. Now they can talk about how rude I am.

My new section definitely has less traffic, but it's right by the door. Any newcomer to the women's locker room is greeted with a nice view of me struggling to keep a towel around me as I change. It's really quite awkward and would probably be faster if I just went for it. Damn you, modesty.

The front of the locker room is also home to the TV that keeps a constant loop of "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" episodes. Why won't this show go away???

The people in this area, at first glimpse, are pretty serious gym go-ers. They are very fit people that are in and out. I want to be part of this group, because I also don't have all day to lollygag in a locker room, but I feel out of place. Especially since I don't dress like a gym skank. There's a lady wearing a spandex mini-skirt with a matching sports bra, and that's it. I have to admit, she had a banging body and she was definitely showing it off, but it really isn't necessary in the end of November. She puts on a zip-up jacket, which tells me she had no intention of wearing an actual shirt. Yeah, I bet you're cold, your sweat is freezing to your skin.
Good gravy (mmm, there will be some good gravy this week) is that woman wearing hair extensions? She had the kind of snarly, long bleach-blond hair that says "I got denied that the Rock of Love auditions, so I consoled myself by taking tequila shots and rubbing up on the lead singer of Poison's cover band. I'm still hot."
For those of you who will see me this weekend, yes, I will be wearing hair extensions, but not to the gym. And they will look real, unlike that girl's chest.
Well, between the call girls and this lady whispering to herself as she stretches and eyeballs me, I'm not sure the senior swim section is all bad. Wherever I go here, I see plenty. Never a dull moment at the gym.