1st Day
So I'm an out of shape loser.
I want to believe that I'm in good physical condition. That I can handle what is thrown at me. After all, I play in a co-ed volleyball league a majority of the year, I take boxing class on occasion, and run for leisure... when its nice out.
And there is excuse number one.
Last night was my first day of "training." I had to run 2 miles on my own. Quick two miles. Nothing to shout about. I've done this a hundred times before. Of course, yesterday was also the day the movers came to take my piano to my new house. So after dealing with that fiasco, wanting to kill my new landlord for deciding to tile the front foyer the day I was moving the heaviest piece of furniture I own, and the torrential downpour/ typhoon that moved through KC... I wasn't exactly in the mood to put on the ol' kicks.
But I did. I headed down to Scott Fitness (the best gym in the entire world) and put on a few different playlists as I cruised my two miles, sweating my ass off, and breathing way too heavy for my own good. Maybe I'm doing this too fast.
The gym set up at the Scott Fitness in Westport is really odd. There are a few treadmills that faced the other cardio equipment directly... with no TV in front of them. So you are essentially staring at the people on the elipticals (machines that I believe give no real benefit to anyone), and hoping they don't think you are a complete freak.
There were three people in front of me today:
"Guy Who Should Be Gay"- an Architectual Digest reading, StairMaster climbing, bleached blonde, iPod listening fellow who really worked hard on the Eliptical (if that's even possible) even resorting to a few minor grunts during the hills, and a whole lot of brow wiping.
"Little Girl Who Demands Respect"- This wee one was directly in front of me. She couldn't have been more than 5 foot tall if she was an inch. She coordinated head to toe, and wouldn't look up when she worked out. She kept staring at the numbers flipping hoping to burn that one last calorie. She was a little hard core for me.
"Big Dude With a Tat He At One Time Wanted but Now Regrets it"- Roughly 6'4", and 280 lbs, this monstrosity has an embarrassingly large tattoo running from shoulder blade to elbow. He wears the sleeveless shirt to show it off and occasionally looks at it longingly, as if someday its going to fit him or make him cool. But for now he's just an overweight guy on an eliptical next to a short chick who won't give him the time of day.
I know what you are thinking and to answer you: yes, this is exactly what I do at the gym.
I want to believe that I'm in good physical condition. That I can handle what is thrown at me. After all, I play in a co-ed volleyball league a majority of the year, I take boxing class on occasion, and run for leisure... when its nice out.
And there is excuse number one.
Last night was my first day of "training." I had to run 2 miles on my own. Quick two miles. Nothing to shout about. I've done this a hundred times before. Of course, yesterday was also the day the movers came to take my piano to my new house. So after dealing with that fiasco, wanting to kill my new landlord for deciding to tile the front foyer the day I was moving the heaviest piece of furniture I own, and the torrential downpour/ typhoon that moved through KC... I wasn't exactly in the mood to put on the ol' kicks.
But I did. I headed down to Scott Fitness (the best gym in the entire world) and put on a few different playlists as I cruised my two miles, sweating my ass off, and breathing way too heavy for my own good. Maybe I'm doing this too fast.
The gym set up at the Scott Fitness in Westport is really odd. There are a few treadmills that faced the other cardio equipment directly... with no TV in front of them. So you are essentially staring at the people on the elipticals (machines that I believe give no real benefit to anyone), and hoping they don't think you are a complete freak.
There were three people in front of me today:
"Guy Who Should Be Gay"- an Architectual Digest reading, StairMaster climbing, bleached blonde, iPod listening fellow who really worked hard on the Eliptical (if that's even possible) even resorting to a few minor grunts during the hills, and a whole lot of brow wiping.
"Little Girl Who Demands Respect"- This wee one was directly in front of me. She couldn't have been more than 5 foot tall if she was an inch. She coordinated head to toe, and wouldn't look up when she worked out. She kept staring at the numbers flipping hoping to burn that one last calorie. She was a little hard core for me.
"Big Dude With a Tat He At One Time Wanted but Now Regrets it"- Roughly 6'4", and 280 lbs, this monstrosity has an embarrassingly large tattoo running from shoulder blade to elbow. He wears the sleeveless shirt to show it off and occasionally looks at it longingly, as if someday its going to fit him or make him cool. But for now he's just an overweight guy on an eliptical next to a short chick who won't give him the time of day.
I know what you are thinking and to answer you: yes, this is exactly what I do at the gym.