Another One Bites the Dust

Post Title: Another One Bites the Dust

Post Date: June 19, 2013

What I fear the most at the gym is falling off the treadmill. I fear it more than the shower; I fear it far more than accidentally dropping my iPhone in the toilet — even more than the spa at the gym downtown.

I have seen several people fall victim to my greatest fear. I’ve seen people let their eyes wander for just a second too long, take one false step, try to grab hold in a last-ditch effort, and fail by way of swinging off to the side like a tether ball. I’ve watched people go down face-first to the belt and look like they were being taken downstream by a white water rapid. It looks downright painful and career-ending, but more importantly, it looks like one of the most embarrassing situations that could happen to you at the gym. I want to walk out and leave the gym when my iPod falls off the treadmill; I would probably never return if I ever let myself fall off.

If it were me, I would prefer that all those nearby pretend they saw nothing. Don’t even acknowledge me, don’t look at me, and certainly do not address me — even if it takes me a minute to get up because I have clearly sustained a bone-protruding leg break Say nothing. Just let me army-crawl to the bathroom, gather myself, and phone a friend. No one actually wants people to help them or ask if they are all right. They just want to leave and pretend no one saw a thing and act as if they were done with their run and that is the proper dismount for the treadmill.

Because this is the reaction I prefer, obviously I assume everyone else feels the same way — including the rookie who tried to hydrate while running at a speed of 7.0, causing her to lose her balance for a nanosecond and hit the front panel while her footing started to take her sideways, bringing her to a back flop on the belt that cannonballed her to the floor. She looked like an item going down the conveyor belt at Costco in fast-forward mode. So I kept my eyes forward, turned up the volume, and completely ignored the roadkill behind me. I know deep down that she would have wanted it that way.

Post Title: Slippery When Wet

Post Date: July 14, 2013

After ten minutes, I wasn’t feeling good about the steam room at all. The air was moist, my skin was moist, my towel was moist, the tile I was sitting on was moist (and not in the good way). I wanted to exit the premises now; I just needed some sort of signal. Lucky for me I got one, in the form of a big fat fart from my friend who I could not see in the opposite corner. Yep, that was all I needed, as I had no desire to be steeped in someone else’s MOIST FART! I got up, walked to the door, realized the floor was slippery and wet, found my way to the floor, broke my flip-flop, lost my towel, was bummed about the sports-bra selection, bummed about my bare bum being exposed as it turned out my bikini bottoms might be a few years old, realized there was no recovery, wished I had the one who farted instead, got back up, and will never return to the steam room again.

Post Title: I’ll Bring the Vodka

Post Date: July 21, 2013

“Pre-Party.” Such an interesting concept. Isn’t the actual party enough? When I hear those words, it takes me back to college sorority parties, when unlimited kegs of Natural Light beer and handles of vodka just weren’t enough. You had to rally your top five friends that week at a house within walking distance, synchronize birth control, and form a circle around a bottle of flavored Smirnoff. Because there’s clearly no point in going to a college kegger unless you’re one game of flip-cup away from a blackout. The words also take me back to company holiday parties. Because two drink tickets are not enough to force an inappropriate interoffice bathroom escapade. I’ll tell you what I don’t think of: generic vodka straight to the dome from the bottle in the locker room before you hit the gym for a mid-day middle-of-the-week workout.

[Posts edited for length]