This is another light-hearted jovial post inspired by life events. I will probably return to regular, quasi-intellectual, boring blogs after we ring in the new year.
I have been to the gym three times now and I may or may not be addicted. I will certainly be joining, soon as I can find the best deal in the universe.
Anyway, today I was swimming my normal routine (if you can call swimming three times in a week with a free week-long gym membership a routine) – freestyle – breaststroke – freestyle – breaststroke – repeat until time runs out, the pool gets busy, or I feel like stopping. During one of the breaststroke segments, a guy pokes his head in from the hallway and shouts at me:
“Hey, are you doing the swimmer’s turn?”
“You know, the swimmer’s turn where you flip around.”
Oh, yeah, no, I used to swim more often but just started again, so I haven’t been doing it (and, ps, you don’t do flip turns with the breast stroke).
“Oh, it’s really easy. You should try it.”
Yeah, maybe, sometime. Why are you talking to me?
“It looks like this.”
Really? You are demonstrating a flip turn in your sweat suit and running shoes with a headband on while standing in the doorway to the pool? Why are you doing this?
“Okay, well, see you later.”
<sarcasm> Yes, I hope so. </sarcasm>
And then, after swimming, I enter the dreaded locker room. Pretty empty, no big deal. Shower off and head back to my locker. Oh, did I mention I used a locker this time? They have 6 “complimentary lockers” that have a little combination code you set before closing the door and then can get back in to collect your stuff. Nice idea. Too bad the combination I set did not open the door to my locker
So, I’m in the locker room fumbling around with the combination. Joining me outside of my locker is a towel around my waist, a water bottle, a swimming suit (also gifted to me by my housemate, the professional swimmer…which means it is not exactly a modest piece of clothing, though it is, thankfully, not as bad as the middle school speedo I had to wear for my swim club), and goggles. Inside of the locker is my ID and my backpack. Oh, and all my clothes. Of course the locker doesn’t want to open, why miss such a great opportunity to humiliate someone?
Ultimately, it was not the worst thing in the world. I just had to put my suit back on, walk upstairs to the front desk and sheepishly ask someone to open up my locker for me. It’s not exactly my ideal way to walk around the gym, wearing my little swimming suit and carrying a pair of goggles.
But, it all works out in the end, right? At least I haven’t paid any money to this place yet. I can still chicken out and save face.
We’ll see what happens.