Got back in the gym this week after a bit of an illness, and I noticed one thing has NOT changed while I was gone. Okay, pretty much nothing has changed while I was gone those four days...but one thing in particular stayed the same and it was the one thing I thought for sure would just stop happening if I didn't show up for a few days.
As you all know I am a firm believer in the "buffer treadmill" rule. This is a rule in a gym where you do NOT use the piece of exercise equipment directly NEXT TO someone else....unless the gym is so busy you do not have a choice, at which point you give the person next to you an apologetic smile to let them know you have no intention of sweating on them or making weird grunting noises or otherwise disturb their viewing of whatever movie happens to be airing on the Bravo network. The only exception to the rule is if you actually KNOW the person and you intend to have a conversation with them while on the equipment...and in that case maybe you should just leave because clearly you're either so fit you can work out AND talk at the same time (I can't) or you're planning to just sort of stroll along, look at your phone, read a book, whatever while you're not exercising all that much. I admire your commitment to slacking like that, I do, but if you're doing that, then you're
|Picture these two people in one suit.|
Then put regular sweats over the suit.
There's the mental picture!
Plastic suit guy is probably a very nice fellow outside of Xperience Fitness. I'm sure he has friends and a job and a very nice life and I'd probably find him funny and charming. But inside Xperience Fitness, he is the guy in the plastic suit who insists on getting onto the treadmill next to me EVERY SINGLE TIME we are in the building together.
Let me paint you a mental picture: Plastic suit guy is a portly fellow who wears, you guessed it, one of those plastic sweat suits UNDER his sweat pants and sweat shirt. He also wears goggles and, for reasons I have yet to figure out, he also wears something that looks like driving gloves. He looks more like he's ready to shoot a car race scene for Downton Abbey than to run on the treadmill.
And then there's how he runs on the treadmill. He drapes a big black towel over the display, which is what the super fit cool kids do to prove they aren't worried about things like time and calories and heart rate because, hey, they're just there for a good run. (Not me. I'm checking my stats constantly,
|Like this...but really not.|
All this would be amusing to me, but not blog worthy if he didn't insist on always doing this next to me. Why me? I'm just sitting there doing my thing, not bothering anyone. And I'm usually in a row of fairly empty treadmills, he could pick any of those. BUT NO. In some strange, twisted sort of animal mating ritual, I feel like he's trying to attract a female (me) I can almost hear Jack Hanna or Marlin Perkins whisper something about, "The Portly Goggled Sweaty Guy is trying to attract the attention of the Portly Sweaty Girl by gripping the display on the treadmill and going as fast and as hard as he can until he falls off. If she looks his way before he falls off, then they are a match. If she ignores him, then he will either fall off and slink away in shame or try again another day."
Hey, I'm not being a mean girl here. I know exactly what I look like when I'm working out. I see the other girls working out with their flat guts and their skinny ankles and their perfect pony tails. d like I said, outside the gym I'd probably be happy to be friends with Plastic Suit Guy. But...in the gym...
HE'S WEARING A PLASTIC SUIT AND GOGGLES AND GLOVES AND DOING THAT
WEIRD THING ON THE TREADMILL AND HE IS ALWAYS NEXT TO ME.
It's like he WANTS to be in the blog.
You know, Hubby is always in the gym with me, but rarely nearby.
Hubby knows my "buffer treadmill rule."
Hubby would rather do anything than be in the blog...including...maybe...bribing some guy to wear something ridiculous and always be in my line of sight.
Oh I get it. So this isn't some guy trying to find love in the gym. This isn't some guy seeing the fluffy pink haired lady and thinking, "Hey, I might have a shot with that one...maybe she'll like my plastic sweat suit. But how to attract her...oh I know...let's get weird. What's weirder than a plastic sweat suit? Driving gloves and goggles."
Nope, I'm convinced now. Hubby is in on it. He has to be. As my friend, Jolene tells me all the time, "Things like this just don't happen to anyone else."
Oh....he is in trouble and he doesn't even know it yet!