Working Out

I want anyone reading this to know that I'm really a nice person. People like me. Honestly. It's just that I have very little patience for just a few things: stupidity, things that just don't make any sense and people that act on impulse rather than common sense. That's not to say that I have a problem with impulsive people, in fact, I admire their ability to act, well, impulsively. I myself am rather impulsive at times. But, there's a difference between throwing caution to the wind and just being dumb. You'll get a better idea of what I mean as you read on. I went to the gym after work today, as I often do, and observed several recurring situations that warrant a rant of the proportions that only I can bring you. Before I continue, let us ponder the purpose of a gym, shall we? My estimation is that such an establishment is for the betterment of one's health. This takes the form of moving one's body, usually strenuously, for a period not less than half of one hour. Now that this has been established...

As I left the gym, I decided to count the vehicles that were illegally parked and those that were driving slowly through the lot looking for the primo parking spots. There were a total of nineteen. That's right, nineteen people, either parked illegally, or lazily cruising the lot hoping to get the best parking spots. The majority of those illegally parked vehicles were illegally parked within fifty yards of the gym entrance. Those vehicles hoping to bolt into any open front parking spot were about the same distance, ie. fifty yards away. There could be several reasons for this. I present those now:

• Bad weather (There are only ~65 days of rain/snow a year in Columbus, today was not one of them.)
• Poorly lit/dangerous parking lot (It is very well lit with constant activity)
• The drivers of said vehicles are handicapped, and all the handicapped spaces are occupied (There were handicap spaces available, and none of said illegally parked or cruising vehicles had the appropriate markings. In addendum, most of said vehicles are are also either lowered to be six inches from the ground or lifted to be six feet away from it)
• The illegally parked cars broke down and ended up where they ended up (Wrong.)
  

Another conclusion to which we may arrive is that these people feel some sort of need to park near the entrance because it is too far to walk from all of the open spaces a mere 250 feet away. Drawing from our understanding of the purpose of a gym, shall we conclude that these fine automobile operators are lazy? Surely not! What then is the mental condition of these offendors? Given the sheer volume of autos, I think we can safely assume that some are using equipment inside the gym that require a form of human propulsion, such as an exercise bike, or (gasp) treadmill. So, drawing again from the purpose of a gym established earlier, there are probably some of these fine persons who spend half of one hour on a treadmill. For the sake of argument, let's say a given person walks a mere one mile on a treadmill. One mile is equal to 5280 feet. Recall that the distance between many of the illegally and/or closest parked vehicles and a vast number of open parking spaces is at most 250 feet. For you math wizards, that's about 1/20 of a mile; obviously an intolerable distance to travel by foot pre- or post-workout. You're at the fukcing gym, people!!

I now turn my ire toward specific individuals who work out at my gym, who shall remain nameless (mainly because I don't really know their actual names):

Sasquatch man. You, the guy that has more body hair than an adult male silver-back gorilla. I understand that your copious amount of body hair is stiflingly hot - it's the equivalent of working out wearing a sweater. I understand that you want to wear as little clothing as possible to stay relatively cool while working out, and that a wife beater offers some coverage and also ventilation at the same time, but for the love of all that is holy - stop it, stop it, stop it. Cover it up, please. And while I'm addressing you, stop standing in front of the fan, hogging all the air. For one, you're blocking the airflow for the rest of the room. For two, the sight of your back and shoulder hair blowing in the breeze is distracting, to say the least.

Mr. I Wear Cologne to the Gym - what the hell? I understand if you slapped on a little Cool Water on in the morning, went to work, and the smell was still lingering when you got to the gym. I understand it - but guess what? You wore too fucking much cologne if I can still smell it three machines away, ten hours after you applied it. Better still are the fucktards who apply cologne before they work out, requiring the use of a gas mask to even crack out a few reps in their general vicinity. What in the holy hell are you trying to cover up? I get that you don't want to be "that stinky guy" that we all talk about, and point at, and make fun of. But a little bit of sweat is expected at the gym. It's normal. Other gym-goers aren't bothered by it, because they are generally sweating their asses off as well, and smell pretty ripe themselves. Your smelling sweaty is preferable to choking us all on the stench of your Kenneth Cole Black, I promise.

You, the guy that smells like cat piss, and not just vaguely of it either. You know who you are, how can you not? You've somehow managed to marinate yourself in Eau de Tomcat. I think that you must be raising an entire den of mountain lions in the secrecy of your basement, because no common housecat could produce that level of stink. I can tell that you're on the premises just by taking one whiff after walking in the door. I don't even make it past the front desk before the lining of my nostrils is assailed by essence of litterbox. Even better, the harder you workout, the more you sweat, and the stinkier you become. You smell so offensive by the end of your workout that you should have little wavy stink lines above your head, a la Pigpen from the Peanuts comic strip. While the cologne guy is annoying, I would gladly pay untold sums of money to buy a 50 gallon vat of Drakkar Noir to dip your funky ass in.

The January gym-goers. I know you made a New Year's resolution to get off your ass and lose some weight, but there are millions of you, hogging up my elliptical trainer, milling about in the walkways, and just pissing me off in general with your new-to-the-gym cluelessness. I just have to take a deep breath, and know that by March, you will all be gone, back to Super-Sizing your meals, and lazing about on the sofa, watching the O.C.

The Grunter. 300 pound squats, or 20 pound bicep curls - it doesn't matter, you want to make sure we all know how hard you're working. I shudder to think what you may sound like in the bedroom, if pumping iron does this to you. Sounding like a cross between a deer in rut and a Cro-Magnon man trying his hardest to communicate quantum physics, you push, press and pull your way through your reps, your grunts of effort echoing through the weight room. I eagerly await the day you shit your pants or get a hernia from the exertion. If you could, please notify my in advance of said event. I want to bring a camera.

In conclusion... thank you, you cat-piss smelling bastard. Thank you, New Year's resolution makers. Thank you Mr. Polo Blue. Thank you, the lazy and illegal parkers. Thank you, obnoxious grunter. You are the reason that my workouts are so effective - your moronic behaviors stoke my rage until it burns with the fire of a thousand suns. My fury spurs me to work out harder, with more intensity, until the point of near-exhaustion. So while you piss me off to no fucking end, I guess that you're sort of doing me a favor. Thanks again, and keep up the good work.