This post doesn’t require a picture. By the end, you’ll have plenty of visuals dancing in your head.
The other day, I was at the “gym.” I use that term loosely because it is pretty ghe-tto. I shouldn’t complain because it gets me out of the house on shitty days. There is nothing fancy about it. The locker room reminds me of high school away games at C schools with less funding than SV (which doesn’t take much) and the locker rooms we had to endure. Rackety old lockers with the smell of soiled gym shorts from 1992, open showers with immanent foot fungus growing in the corners, 1-ply toilet paper that is thinner than the ozone. The equipment is pretty dated, but it works. They have 3 treadmills, 3 row machines, 3 bikes, 3 ellipticals, free weights, and weight machines. They have 1 stretching area with mats, exercise balls, and medicine balls. The fitness area overlooks the gymnasium. There are scheduled times for certain activities: basketball, open gym, volleyball (I’ve shown up twice and no one ever comes to play), and **drumroll, please** pickleball. It is absolutely amazing how many people come to play pickleball. I haven’t played since Lubke’s gym class in high school. They just installed a climbing wall on one end of the gym and a couple of times I’ve seen tape on the gym floor in oval shapes (more like amoebas) for roller derby. They’re moving on up!
It is a volunteer based gym. All equipment is funded by donations. Currently they are raising money for a stair climber. There are no TV’s, no music stations built into the machines, no juice bar, and no pool. Absolutely nothing glamorous about it, but it gets the job done.
So, the other day, I started my workout like I always do. I usually start on the treadmill. I tend to go a little A.D.D. and soon after I start, I get extremely bored…which is why I don’t last long on the treadmill. I start jogging, then I start kicking up the speed and by the time I hit a mile, I’m sprinting. By the end, I’m sweating like a whore in church and I’m done. Sometimes I’ll run a mile like above, then take a breather; run another mile, take a breather; and then run another mile. Stupid. After 3 miles, I’m ready to curl up in the fetal position and cry. My legs are dead, my lungs are burning, my pitiful excuse for cleavage has a waterfall of sweat rolling down it, my back is soaked, and my head is pounding. Why the FUCK does anyone want to run 26.2 miles?
Time to stretch. I make my way over to the stretching mats and start stretching my legs. I pull my right leg in to stretch one side, then the next. Fuck, my legs are dead. It is hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock. I continue to sweat. I pull both legs in. Ouch. Mother fucker. Why do people run marathons? I can barely do 3 miles.
After stretching my legs, I start to do some floor exercises. I roll over and get into the plank position. As I’m steadying my breathing, focusing on my core, listening to my iPod, I look down. Big mistake. A few inches under my face is a hair. Not just any hair. A pube. A FUCKING PUBE! I am so horrified that I freeze. 1. I don’t want to panic, lose my balance and face-plant. 2. I hold my breath, because God forbid it moves or gets sucked in my nose or even worse, my mouth. 3. I don’t want to screech and run around in disgust because the last thing I need is people in this small town referring to me as the “schizo girl at the gym.” I start to go cross-eyed and focus on keeping calm, and slowly come out of the plank. I stand up and I’m shivering with disgust. GROSS!!
I start to do what you’re not supposed to….imagine how it got there. Was a guy going commando and lose a soldier out the bottom of his gym shorts? Maybe he was wearing boxers. Maybe some lady forgot to get a bikini wax….8 years ago. Ewwww. So gross. Whatever happened to people sanitizing after they work out?! That’s why there are rags and disinfectant spray.
Word to the wise: Check the mat before you stretch. Oh, and get a bikini wax for Christ’s sake.