Some Rat-Traps Needed
So about a week or so ago, I entered the gym for the first time in a very long time. I had gone half-heartedly a little after Mr. Personality was born, but I hated leaving him at the daycare center. I couldn't see what was going on, and I felt he was just too small to be left alone in there. So we went about four times together and I stopped.
Part of the problem of my lack of gym attendance can be blamed on Hubba-hubba. Not all, but part. He has always insisted that we work out together, meaning we must leave Mr. Personality at the child care center. He will read this and splutter in denial, but it is true. I didn't like leaving my son with strangers, and I still don't. Finally we brokered a compromise that we can work out separately. Due to my back problems, I needed a truly non-impact cardio workout, and the gym is the best place for that.
We have a 24 Hour Fitness Sport membership. Our particular Sport complex happens to be a complete meat market, which I abhor. The guys are there to look impressive and stare at the chicks in little to no clothing who are walking by. The women all have makeup on and perfectly done hair. They guys are all waxed and shiny, and quite the few are obviously on steroids. Our gym has two stories, and on a balcony overlooking the first floor are the Universal machines, which I happen to love. But, they are a prime lookout spot for the guys, who hang out on them for a half hour at at time, doing pretty much nothing but warming the seat. It is all about being seen, but as most of them are in much better shape than me, perhaps I am the one doing something wrong.
I do have a news flash for all the gym rats. If you are sitting at a machine, staring at yourself endlessly in the mirror or out onto the first floor, you are not really working out. I cannot get over the people who do this, and most of the time they tend to be men. They will lift/pull lots of impressive looking weights, grunt and strain for a couple reps and then stop. I have seen them sit there up to two mintues between sets. This kind of workout will do you little to no good. You need to get on the machine, hit it hard and fast, and then get the heck off.
Also, men tend to be clueless about gym etiquette. If there are 6 empty elliptical machines, don't go to the one right next to me. If I am on one of the three sit-up boards, would it kill you to let there be one empty one between us? Have you heard of actually using your towel to wipe down the machine when you are done? And I love how I see men carrying little wash-cloth sized towels, looking furtively around to see if anyone notices they didn't bring the right size.
But aside from all that, I really do enjoy working out. I feel much better when I do. And wasn't that so easy for me to blame my husband as to why I didn't go for so long? At least he's good for something. I'm all about not taking responsibility for any of my actions. Life is so much easier that way.
Part of the problem of my lack of gym attendance can be blamed on Hubba-hubba. Not all, but part. He has always insisted that we work out together, meaning we must leave Mr. Personality at the child care center. He will read this and splutter in denial, but it is true. I didn't like leaving my son with strangers, and I still don't. Finally we brokered a compromise that we can work out separately. Due to my back problems, I needed a truly non-impact cardio workout, and the gym is the best place for that.
We have a 24 Hour Fitness Sport membership. Our particular Sport complex happens to be a complete meat market, which I abhor. The guys are there to look impressive and stare at the chicks in little to no clothing who are walking by. The women all have makeup on and perfectly done hair. They guys are all waxed and shiny, and quite the few are obviously on steroids. Our gym has two stories, and on a balcony overlooking the first floor are the Universal machines, which I happen to love. But, they are a prime lookout spot for the guys, who hang out on them for a half hour at at time, doing pretty much nothing but warming the seat. It is all about being seen, but as most of them are in much better shape than me, perhaps I am the one doing something wrong.
I do have a news flash for all the gym rats. If you are sitting at a machine, staring at yourself endlessly in the mirror or out onto the first floor, you are not really working out. I cannot get over the people who do this, and most of the time they tend to be men. They will lift/pull lots of impressive looking weights, grunt and strain for a couple reps and then stop. I have seen them sit there up to two mintues between sets. This kind of workout will do you little to no good. You need to get on the machine, hit it hard and fast, and then get the heck off.
Also, men tend to be clueless about gym etiquette. If there are 6 empty elliptical machines, don't go to the one right next to me. If I am on one of the three sit-up boards, would it kill you to let there be one empty one between us? Have you heard of actually using your towel to wipe down the machine when you are done? And I love how I see men carrying little wash-cloth sized towels, looking furtively around to see if anyone notices they didn't bring the right size.
But aside from all that, I really do enjoy working out. I feel much better when I do. And wasn't that so easy for me to blame my husband as to why I didn't go for so long? At least he's good for something. I'm all about not taking responsibility for any of my actions. Life is so much easier that way.
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