Where, you ask, (or I asked...somebody had to!)is the two ton treadmill the poor Mountain Man dragged into the living room? (see Working It Out Feb 5, 2009)-well, when I finally DID get on the damn thing, it didn't even work. You would think we would have plugged the damned thing in and made sure it was operable before the Mountain Man humped it 200 yards all by himself (of course, I WAS directing him on exactly how to maneuver said machine!). Well, YOU very well WOULD think first, but here at mysuestories manor, we pride ourselves on being persons of action. ACT first, think later. This particular mantra also lends itself to needing quick access to bail money as well.
Anyway, so I'm at the gym, really burning the body fat on a treadmill on which I am walking at about the pace of a spastic turtle. (OK, OK, so it's not quite a HIGH INTENSITY work out yet. I DID park two rows away from the door!)
My gym ( funny, I've only been there a dozen times in the last five years, but I do believe it is MY gym!)....MY gym has fourteen treadmills (I did count them tonight in order to authenticate this story!-Just call me Bob Woodward...Or Deep Throat. Just call me!)
So, I'm pumping up my cardio routine ever so slowwwwly, and the treadmill adjacent to mine opens up. Seconds later, an extremely youthful (read - anyone under 25!!!!This number keeps changing as I get older!!)..youthful, yes, youthful young whipper snapper jumps onto the treadmill.
Now, I know, constant reader, you have this vision of loveliness when you imagine mysuestories in tight spandex shorts and huge bouncing boobs as Brad Pitt leans over and offers his sweaty c... to my eager mouth.....ooops...wrong story...sorry!!!
Suffice it to say that I was a sweaty, grotesquely shaped mess when the gangly and way too young work out king jumped on the treadmill.
Now, when treading at a gym, I have a tendency to do the same thing I do on face book (and no, readers, it is NOT stealing friends!). I eavesdrop. Or maybe it is eavesreading. Or read dropping. I have to look and see how fast you are going, what is your incline (no, not sexual inclinations...inconveniently, they do not have such a window on treadmills) and how many calories you have burned.
So, I ever so non-chalantly, which as you can imagine, is not very non chalant at all, peer over at my new neighbor's stats.
Firstly, he is walking at a pace SLOWER than mysuestories. That immediately puts a superiority grin on my face, and I am now strutting my stuff as I walk the treadmill, (But ALWAYS keeping two hands on the handle bars...I'm not Evel Knievel, after all!)
Secondly, he has legs longer than my entire body. His arms also appear to be four feet in length, and he is just screaming geek gawk walking!!! But he's doing his thang, so I go back to staring at my time clock and wonder why it's barely moving.
Suddenly, the geekster starts rolling his arms and stabbing the air while walking the treadmills like John Travolta doing the hustle in the 70's.
|From gym nite|
He then starts puching the air ala Rocky Balboa sans punching bag
|From gym nite|
At this point, I pick up my sweat wiping towel and casually proceed to wipe sweat only from the right side of my face, so I can turn my head to my left and watch this debacle!
Our geekster next strips off his sweatshirt to reveal a bright orange under armour tank top, and he begins pumping the air like Bruce Springsteen punctuating "Born in the USA"
|From gym nite|
I notice people from the other side of the gym are now staring, and it is NOT my heaving bosom that is attracting all the attention. I have started to giggle, and I realize I never did perfect a silent laugh.
The Geekster looks over at me, and I can't turn away fast enough! He sees me trying (and not at all succeeding!) to suppress my laughter, and then it happens.
He. Misses. A. Step.
He doesn't exactly fall, but he does lose his footing, and grabs the handrails and goes down just for a second on one knee. The whole time, he is looking directly at me, as if this is MY fault!
In my most sympathetic manor, I do the only thing I can.
I laugh. Loudly. And for a lonnnng time.
My Richard Simmons workout geek jumped off the treadmill and left in a huff.
I continued to laugh out loud. For FIVE full minutes!
That was the end of THAT work out, but, boy, did my abs get a workout from keeling over with laughter!!!!
I went back to the gym again today, but I didn't see him. Sigh. Nothing to do but walk it off, I guess. I wonder if he's on facebook?