So last night, despite the fact that I meant to leave work at five, and it simply did not happen, I headed to the gym to get a run in.
Please recall Tuesday night’s chip debacle.
I saw that an end treadmill was open, which is actually my favorite, because it’s about as secluded as you can get in a gym.
I hopped on and put myself on autopilot, listening to hot beats and wondering how on earth it is that I sweat the same amount as a giant man.
Well, I am too much.
Anyway, there was this woman on my left side who seemed to be attempting a workout, but who throughout her 25 minutes on the treadmill insisted on stopping at least a dozen times, to do the following things:
- Tie her shoelaces
- Drink some water
- Adjust the jacket she had on around her waist
- Pick up her iPod, which had fallen on the ground
- Hop off the treadmill to go get more water
- Adjust the speed/incline (not sure why she had to get off the treadmill to do this)
- Fix her hair
If I had known her even one iota, I would have hissed Knock it off already at her, or maybe suggested that she really seemed to be in no mood to work out, so could she please stop doing highly distracting things while I was simply trying to run.
I know I’m being harsh and judge-y here, chicks, but everyone has bad workout days. It generally means you maybe take off early or don’t come at all (again, Tuesday night’s date with the bag of chips, a fine example).
It does not mean that you loudly avoid the treadmill at all costs while still managing to also be on the treadmill at the same time.
At least I can say it kept me from concentrating so hard on my rhinoceros breathing.
I’m trying to find the good in things, chickadees.