Ick Day

It is officially a new year, which means the workout centers are absolutely overloaded.

Renewed focus on health and weight loss kind of grosses me out.

I find myself surrounded by people that are not quite what I expect at a place where you have to pay to attend.  As I was working out, I noticed a number of non-athletes, like myself, who have a tendency to wear old college t-shirts and other misshapen items from the bottom drawer of the dresser.  For the most part, that is acceptable to me.  And then I see Grandpa Elmo.  He is a grandpa, for sure, adorned in an enormous red shirt with Elmo's face on it.  He has red shorts, too.  And a red bandanna, Bret Michaels style, on his head.  I do not know if his grandchild dressed him, but I suppose that could happen.  Then, there is the man that likes to do lunges on the stairs while I train.  When he groaning penetrates the sound from my ear buds, I have to notice that he is contorting himself in a quite unhealthy way.  And then there is the guy who like to walk on the treadmill, steeply inclined, but he does it backwards while tossing around a yo-yo.

And these are just a few of the examples I remember during my work out.

As I leave, I find the sweatiest man ever.  Sitting on upholstered furniture.  Reading a magazine.  There is not a dry spot on him.  Anywhere.  Even the top of his head is wet.  And it is not raining.  And I notice beside him is his towel.  Which he has neglected to use.  Anywhere.  Anywhere on his body.

It is for this reason that I am glad we will be having the snow-pocalypse of the century and I will be unable to go work out.  I need some space from these people, especially the sweaty one.  And I will never sit down on any furniture there.  Ever.