Feeling Self Conscious And Wary Using A Gym For The First Time In Ages To Improve My Running…….
I went to the gym tonight for the first time since January 2011 and it was a frightening experience.
It’s not the actual machines or equipment I’m afraid of. It’s the other gym users. Mainly the fat old men who hang around in the changing room, chatting to other fat old men whilst nervous twentysomethings flit around the dim perimeters of the room like dying moths.
I sometimes wish I was a fat old man who didn’t give a fuck anymore. It’d make life so much more fun. I could just run on the treadmill for 10 minutes, return to the showers, spray Deep Heat on my balls and frolick with the other fat old men.
Perhaps that’s the secret to life and enlightenment. We as a species need to calm the fuck down, let ourselves go a little bit and hose our balls down with Deep Heat until they are as white as Svalbard during White Pride Week.
I’m definitely doing something wrong with this shit. I’m way too uptight when I’m amongst others at the gym. And it’s not that I feel self conscious anymore.
I just feel tense. And when I feel tense I need to shit. And when I need to shit it’s difficult to think about what month it is let alone construct a workable work-out plan. The following is NOT workable even if you are Karen Carpenter.
Treadmill – 5 mins
Treadmill – 2 mins
Treadmill – 4 minutes
Wikipedia “Irritable Bowel Syndrome” followed by “Bowel Cancer” whilst shitting.
It’s not like I actually need to shit either. My intestines will wait until I’ve hit some flow, my stomach will then growl and I’ll stop the machine thinking that I’m gonna shit lava if I don’t run to the toilet.
Once the machine has been switched off, the need to go will evaporate as quickly as Christmas week.
I’ll curse myself for stopping and restart the machine until the same happens again. It’s so fucking frustrating.
And there’s nothing worse than actually farting in a crowded gym.
You already spend 90% of your concentration on trying to keep yourself from storming off your bike and heading off to KFC to drown out the woe. There isn’t enough mental energy left to try to contain a fart.
You’re already locked in a vortex of self hatred as your sweat starts landing on adjacent machines. You just don’t have anything left in you to stop something toxic escaping out the back.
And the worst thing about all of it is that much like a drunken email, there is no way to retract a gym fart.
I can’t even pretend that it wasn’t me that farted anymore. I just resign myself to the sighs and the tuts and try to just get on with it as best as I can.
It’s particularly excruciating on the treadmill as there’s nothing to take my mind off either the fart or the monotony of running on a conveyor belt. At least when I’m running outside I have a changing landscape to hate.
When I’m confined on the treadmill the gas clings to me like a smelly old toothless dog.
But other than that I had a great time at the gym. I did the elliptical machine for half an hour, the treadmill for the same length of time, followed by the bike to round it all off.
I’ll be back there again before Friday, hopefully in a healthier frame of mind.