Tales from the Gym- Part the Fourth

Being a scientific minded individual, I decided it would be fun to experiment. I wanted to compare and contrast the amazing experience I had the last trip I made to the gym- the glorious freedom of working out in a virtual ghost town- with one during peak hours.

Okay, that's complete and utter bullshit; even as the words left my head and transferred to the key board, I couldn't bite back a disgusted snort. The truth is, I decided to head to the gym after work; after spending hours slaving away for them dollar bills y'all, I wanted to purify myself with sweat, sore muscles, and the endorphins that would accompany them.

I was in for disappointment.

I arrived at 24 Hour Fitness around 11 pm, and was greeted by a parking lot packed full of cars; every bike rack was occupied, and the ones belonging to the surrounding businesses were as well. "Hmmm," I thought to myself as I looked around for somewhere to lock my bike. "This can't be good."

I eventually found a spot at the movie theater across from the mall, and with a heavy heart, I tromped over the gym and to what would be the most harrowing 72 minutes of this year. Submitted for the approval of The Midnight Society, I call this story: TALES FROM THE GYM!

Stepping into the gym was like diving head first into a swamp. The air was thick, saturated with the foul stench of a hundred unwashed human bodies, each person trying with all their might to get that pump; to burn just one more calorie, to get just one more rep. Even more disturbing, you could taste the sour stench; opening ones mouth for more than a split second was like licking the invisible arm pit of a morbidly obese walrus.

"It's the smell, if there is such a thing..."

And the heat. Weeping gods, it was hot in that building, which I guess is to be expected when it's packed to capacity and nearly everyone is running, lifting, and leaking gross amounts of putrid saltwater  from every pore of their filthy bodies. In case you can't tell, I was just a little repulsed. I felt like I had somehow been transported from Earth to the planet Degobah, which is ridiculous because there are no transporters in Star Wars. Still, I half expected Yoda to be working the front desk, offered zen-like wisdom as each gym goer checked in.

Of course there were no open lockers. I don't know why I should have expected otherwise. I spent my first 15 minutes waiting around for someone to finish up their workout and move the fuck along so I could store my stuff.

And that was just the beginning of the worst aspect of a full gym: The Lines. The Fucking Lines.

Everything was taken or being used. And I do mean EVERYTHING. All the benches were occupied by meat heads. Every machine was being used. And don't get me started on that most sacred of piece of equipment, the squat rack. And around every piece of equipment, every bench being occupied, and every cardio machine in use was a motherfucking line. 

Okay, maybe line isn't the right word. With that many people, space was limited and there obviously wasn't room for folks to stand in lines. It was more like planets orbiting a star; each exercise station was a brilliant glowing ball of luminescent glory, and hovering around each was a clumpy ball of dirt. Some as jovian as the largest of planets, others sad little dwarf rocks regulated to Pluto status in the gym hierarchy. And all eager to get as close to the Sun as possible.

Navigating that mess was insanity made manifest; even Han Solo, who has the biggest balls in the galaxy, would think twice before trying to fly through that mayhem.

"Yeah, fuck that!"

It quickly became apparent that following a set routine wouldn't work; my workout regimen would largely consist of whatever machine or weight I could grab as it became available. Moving around in the murky swampy mess, I became a scavenger, eager for any scrape of meat I could get my paws on. I also found myself developing a great deal of sympathy for the hyenas in the Lion King...

The Circle of Life sucks when you aren't on top.

I was always in a rush, either because I was trying to finish my sets as quickly as possible- a bunch of sweaty apes glowering at you is great motivation for speed- or because I was trying to swoop in and snag a tasty morsel before some bigger, stronger predator got to it first. I was almost trampled twice.

"Move it, you damn cub. Do you even lift, bro?"

The Laws of the Jungle suck ass.

Needless to say, it wasn't what one would call a satisfactory workout; the only sweat I really built up was from the swelter caused by the entire population of Lynnwood working out at the same time in one gym.

Tales from the Gym- Part the Third

Deciding to make the best of an irksome situation, our hero said "fuck it," and went to the gym in the wee hours of the morning, while the rest of the world slept. Under the passive gaze of the moon, he set forth on his trusty steed, Bike, and rode through the mostly empty streets towards that wonderland of iron, sweat, and cardio machines.

That's right! It's time for another TALES FROM THE GYM!!!

So, this morning was interesting. Nothing too strange happened, but I did learn a few things while I was on my epic quest to repetitiously lift and lower heavy objects. For instance:

1. The Police have Nothing to Do.
As I was riding along, minding my own business, heading to the gym and GLORY, I was accosted by a random patrolman. This individual with the badge was driving in the opposite direct I was riding, but felt that he needed to discuss something with me, so he turned around and followed me through the empty parking lot of the Alderwood Mall, which is right next to 24 Hour Fitness. Since I didn't respond to him tailing me, he decided to get my attention by flashing his Super Cool Police Strobe Lights and pulling ahead of me, forcing me to stop. As if we were in some kind of police chase on an episode of Cops.

Being the law-abiding citizen I am, I stopped- my instinct was to ride around him while yelling, "Learn how to drive, pork chop!- but pissing off the bacon was not my priority this particular morning. I plastered a pleasant smile on my face and waited to see what the good officer of the law required.

"Do you know how fast you were going?"

"Where are you off to?" He asked me with faux politeness. Because apparently, riding a bike in the middle of the night is cause for concern by the cops; I'm certain that if I had been driving a car, this little interrogation wouldn't have happened.

"The gym, officer," I said, pointing at 24 Hour Fitness, which was less than 100 yards away. I made an effort to keep my tone of voice light, which wasn't easy; my penchant for answering stupid questions with scathing sarcasm has gotten me in trouble many a time- though thankfully never with the cops. "I've got some extra energy to burn tonight, and thought I'd hit up the weights."

The officer studied me for a moment, no doubt processing my words and looking for something wrong with them. Finally he said, "Just so you know, there's a Helmet Ordinance in this county. I don't really pay it much mind, but I thought you should know."

Okay, that's actually good to know. The issue I take with it is that if this officer doesn't care about it, like he just said, why did he feel compelled to turn around and follow me through an empty mall parking lot? I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe he wasn't profiling me (it's happened before, sadly) and assume he's just bored.

"Really? I wasn't aware of that. Thanks for letting me know, sir." You see, I can be respectful when I have to be. The officer nodded and bid me good morning. Bemused, I watched him pull out into the street and drive off, before continuing on my merry way. So, I also learned:

2. I need to get a helmet.
 Otherwise, I'll be regularly pestered by police officers with nothing better to do than flag down innocent bikers. Granted, I do need to pick up a helmet, but I haven't found the right one yet. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find My Little Pony bike helmets that fit my magnificent head?

The streamers will make my bike go faster.

3. I LOVE working out in the Wee Hours.
Holy crap, the gym is a completely different place at 3 am. During that time of day, I can literally count the number of gym patrons on two hands, and it is awesome! In the morning there are no crowds. I don't have to dodge and weave around a million other sweating, exhausted people as I try and get a decent work out.
There are no lines. No waiting to use the squat rack or bench press- which are always in use, because those are the only two exercises people know how to use, apparently- and there is no shortage of dumbbells; nothing is more aggravating than having to wait around for some overly-muscled thug to finish using half of the dumbbells in the gym at once. And no, I'm not exaggerating; it's called pyramid lifting, where you perform each set with a different weight and number of repetitions; it's an awesome way to build muscle, but so very annoying for anyone else who happens to need a set of dumbbells.

All of these are being used by one guy.

It's truly liberating to have access to all the equipment at will, with no waiting around. No hurrying through your lifts because that sweat-drenched dude is giving you the stink eye and tapping his foot impatiently. Granted, when someone does that to me, I intentionally slow down because Fuck You Chump. But that's beside the point. Not having to waste my disdain on gym goers allows me to spend it on other people who might deserve it. It's called efficiency, people.

After getting in an awesome leg workout, the trusty steed and I headed home- without incident, I might add- to a post workout meal and relaxation. I'm definitely going to have to start going to lift after work rather than before; weight training before work leaves me exhausted through my entire shift, and I desperately need to be at my peak when things get insane. Which they do almost everyday, because why should I have an easy time? Nah, fuck that.