Notes About Gymming

I'm still not comfortable talking to people at the gym. There are, however, a couple guys who now acknowledge me. It's quite funny. Apparently there really is a brotherhood among gym rats! One guy works there. The other one might. I always see him standing at the front desk looking at people when he's not pumping iron (I've never seen him on a treadmill).

Now, apparently, there is actually a standard of decorum when getting to know other guys at the gym. First, there is eye contact. In this, one must remain steadfast in holding the other dude's gaze until he turns away. You know, establishing territory and all that. They actually pay attention to what you do. If you put in a crippling workout, even if you're a fat weakling like me, you earn respect. It's important that they hear your grunts and smell your sweat when you walk by. And you absolutely must lift weights. The emo skater kid who dances on the ellipticals for a half hour and does some stretching gets no props from the Beefeaters.

After they are relatively sure that you look like someone who is going to stick with it, you'll be blessed with an accepting head nod and a slight grin that doesn't really look anything like a smile. You are still in macho mode of course. The nod, I think, reflects something like this: "You tough. me tougher."

Now, having passed that test, I have attained the level of talking, albeit briefly. I told you this was complex! These verbal exchanges consist of, in addition to the eye contact and nod, a "what's up," or "hey." You must be careful not to smile too broadly. This kind of communication to early in your He-Man bonding may send the wrong signals. The funny thing is, I kind of knew what to say when the time came. I didn't stop and start talking about going to the symphony or watching foreign-language films. Just a simple "what's up," as a statement, mind you, not a question meant to initiate conversation.

I worry what this could mean for my future. Am I really blossoming into a Schwarzguvner? Will I start speaking with an Austrian accent? Next time I'm out with my friends and I have to use the bathroom, will something just slip out of my mouth like, "I'll be bock."? Will I start twitching my pecs uncontrollably? Will I grow an affinity for cracking my knuckles and neck? It's unnerving, seriously.

Only one guy has talked to me in the locker room. That was on my first day at this gym, and I was worried that I would have to put up with this all the time. He was completely clothes free. He was rubbing his lower back, complaining about the stiffness. WTF? Then he goes into this 8 minute rant about oatmeal. Apparently he puts everything in oatmeal to spice up the ole variety factor. Because of course, it's the best food you can possibly eat. Oatmeal with raisins. Oatmeal with chopped nuts. Oatmeal with peanut butter. Oatmeal with bananas. Who did this guy think he was? Bubba Blue from Forrest Gump (shrimp anyone)?

Then I wondered if it's just guys with big schlongs who feel so comfortable talking so casually while naked. I don't know why, but you hear them strike up the strangest conversations. They start talking about the spices they use when they cook, the latest and greatest Internet sites for Valentines Day gifts, how they decorate their Christmas tree. Odd.

Not that I would ever do it, but I think it would be terribly funny to randomly start crooning "Siiiiiinging in the rain" in the locker room and see how fast the place clears out. With my luck, I would probably have missed the other sign on the door, the one with the little rainbow flag designating this gym as a gay gym. Suddenly, there would be a room full of naked men dancing around singing "What a glorious feelin'! I'm happy again! I'm laughing at clouds!"

By the way, I blog for entertainment purposes only, so if you are a guy who has large muscles, or if you are one who prefers men, please take no offense.

As for women in the gym, I admit to catching a glimpse here and there. Yup. There was one tonight, in fact. She was walking on the treadmill and oddly, I don't think she ever pushed speed over about 2.0 miles per hour. She just walked kind of languidly, her tiny hips swinging forward and around and back again. She was just, there. I would never do anything as asinine, however, as go stand on the treadmill next to her and try to strike up a conversation. I still have never, and never will, view a gym as a social club. Look, anyplace where you cannot look someone in the eye while you are talking to her, and anyplace that is actually designed for revealing clothing, is not for me an acceptable place to talk to women. This also includes "meat market" bars and strip clubs (I have such an unhappy look on my face).

I do wonder, though, what people are listening to on their headphones. If I were to talk to any woman in a gym, it would be the one dancing on the elliptical while rocking out to Puccini's "La Boheme" at 85 decibels. And at the fun parts where Pavarotti sounds like a god, she would thrust her hands into the air as if she had just won the Boston Marathon. How much fun would it be to have a coffee with her?

Speaking of music and fitness, I realized today I must have super strong glutes. When something fun comes on in the car, I like to move around a little. I don't really like shaking side to side, because the rhythm gets all messed up by the random bobbing of my belly. Not fun. No, no. I prefer the glute flexing technique. Left, right, left, right, left right, right, left. "Lalalalalalalala." Sometimes both get flexed at the same time! This creates a sort of bouncing motion. And no belly movement!

Okay, I think that's enough bullocks for the moment.

Cheers to ALL, whether you are reading this or not!