I love playing Treadmill War with the person next to me at the gym. Everytime I get on a treadmill next to a man and start pumping up the speed, I initiate an automatic macho male response from the guy next to me. If I happen to be running faster than Mr. Overcompensation, he will usually, without fail, crank his speed up at least a couple notches past my own. When I finish my one mile warm up and increase my speed again, it's hilarious to watch him do the same. Hey guy, what' so awful about a girl being able to run faster than you?
Although sometimes this makes me mad enough to play his stupid game and match his speed, lately I just let it roll down my back. I want to soothe his fragile manhood by cheering, "good for you, you can run faster than a pregnant lady!" Of course, I don't.
At Loyola, I used to run in the indoor gym and I frequently ran at the same times as a man known within my friend circle as Creepy Man. Creepy Man looked like he was in his fifties, and he was always walking around campus in his sweatpants. Oh, did I mention he had the contemporary version of a mullet? And he actually RAN indoors in long sleeve sweats and his entire shirt would be soaked in circular sweat stains- ew. Anyway, Creepy Man was always running at the same time I was. He usually would keep the pace of a quick jog-- until I joined him on the track, then I would watch him pick up to the pace of a sprint. This was always accompanied by his loud and panty grunting. He would stop when he was way ahead of me to catch his breath, but the second I was almost caught up, he would jump back on the track and start all over.
Men really need to grow up!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
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2 comments:
Be careful with that competitive treadmilling . . . you don't wanna fall down, sista!
There are total old men at my gym who do all the exercise equipment in dress shirts and polyester pants. They bench press like 20 lbs (the bar plus one of the 5 lbs. rings at each end) and then, wearing old man velcro shoes, they walk on the treadmills. I think they're badass. All of them could probably run faster than I can at this point with my ginormous nursing boobs.
This is really mean, but I'm going to do it anyway: Golden Grahams.
Sorry, I just had to spread the pregnancy misery around. If you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, this is in response to your earlier post on my blog.
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