Day 25

Today's word: HOME.

Today's message is mostly for entertainment value. :)

I'm back in the now. I've walked a few times since last week, but nothing that counts toward real points. Today I made it back to the gym. Yes!!!!! I did some shoulders (overhead DB press, EZ bar upright row and DB side raises) and a set of triceps (overhead cable rope press-down) and a little cardio (15 minutes on a treadmill incline). Those triceps were killer, man. I laughed at myself when I did 3 sets of shoulder presses with the 12 pound DB's. I am ashamed! But it was funny anyway. Three years ago I would have kicked my butt for letting myself go like this. I remember getting some 45's over my head in Tennessee. XENA!! Xena's back to the 12's for now, baby. Yeah, that's vein popping power. NOT! Sure felt like it, though.

Are you afraid to go to the gym because all the big buff dudes and skinny chicks are going to look at you and judge you? Oh, I was afraid, too, back in the day. But I remembered something that made me laugh out loud. NO ONE'S LOOKING AT YOU. THEY DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU. THEY'RE TOO BUSY LOOKING AT THEIR OWN BEAUTIFUL IMAGES IN THE MIRRORS!!!! Trust me here.

Oh, how I miss my gym partner!!! Today, I almost felt like I was back at home at the gym (but not quite). Today was the day I saw my old friends. Gyms are like home to people. They all know each other by name. They know about each other like they're family. And there are always the same stereotypes in every gym across America. Let me explain.

I'm in a new city in a new gym, but the same gym rats were there. I saw a couple of fairly skinny guys mosey-ing around the gym swinging their hand towels (I observed from upstairs on the cardio deck). I swear, they must have walked 4 or 5 laps around the whole gym before they finally disappeared into the locker room. They weren't exercising, mind you. They were STROLLING. Just checking it out - "gellin' like Magellan." Awesome.

And of course, there was the obscenely buff dude with boulder sized muscles exploding out of his sweatpants and t-shirt making his funeral march from one exercise to the next (waiting 10 minutes between sets, of course). Yeah, he's almost as magnificent as he thinks he is (God's gift to women). Narcissus never took his eyes off his own reflection. You go, sweetie puff.

There was a gay guy in his capri pants and soft shoes sashaying his way around the cable apparatus. He's always more beautiful than the women there. He carries himself well. He's one of the only ones there who actually looks like he knows what he's doing. He's focused and he's there to work. You go girl!

And of course, there's the guy who (thinks he's 3 times the bulk he really is) is hovering around fill-in-the-blank-machine or bench texting his buddy (sometimes they carry on in-depth phone conversations but not today) during the 5 minutes rests between sets. Text away, you moron. Never mind the clearly posted "No Cell Phones" signs posted everywhere. You give those thumbs a workout!

Upstairs, there was the older guy (60-something) on the precor machine going 90 to nothing. He's the one with the grey sweat-soaked cotton muscle tee and a sweatband on ('cause he's sweating bullets) He was up there from the time I arrived till I left an hour later. He's the guy who believes he needs 2 hours of hard core cardio 8 days a week in order to maintain his fabulous golden age figure. I ran past him so as to avoid his "fitness sermon." Those older guys like to chat with the gals.

Then there was the 40 pounds overweight guy on a treadmill running, sucking wind, about to die. This was probably his first trip to the gym in 6 months and he's just trying to make up for lost time. Oh, honey, slow down before you have a heart attack. But I'm glad you're here with me anyway.

And there was the overweight exuberant trainer who likes to hound people: "Can I take you for a workout today? When can we do it if not today?" Bless him for his enthusiasm, but honey, don't touch me. I'm lucky to be here, and I sure don't want your help today. I suppose I could open my mind and be flexible (HA!). I could let him lead me around today but...dude, your beer gut is the size of a tractor tire. If I'm going to open my heart to a trainer, I want them to look like a trainer, not a fried food dumpster. Would you go to a hairdresser/makeup artist who looks like Amy Winehouse? No, but there's always a trainer at every gym who looks like a bouncer. Bless them.

And my old training partner from Tennessee, I thought of you. I almost made it to the locker room and out the door unscathed today. But no, it was not meant to be. I go to the locker room to gather my keys and head out...I'm rounding the corner into the steamy area and what's there in my face??? A happy grama in nothing but a towel on her head and cork wedge high heeled sandals!!!!!! Just parading around chatting with another one just like her!!!!! AAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! NEKKID. Now I understand that you have to be naked in the locker room for a few split seconds every now and again (where's the dressing curtain?), but in a public ladies locker room? This isn't your house. Do you really have to parade around buck nekkid while you apply makeup, dry your hair, chat with another nekkid grama about your neighbor's business? Have some courtesy for those of us around you. Oh, I made it all the way out to the car before I exploded! All I could think about was this: "Dang, I miss my gym buddy! I miss home. Without her, I don't feel like it's home." Keeping a straight face at the gym isn't near as fun when you're flying solo.

Please understand, I'm not judging Nekkid Grama. I'm just very aware of the humor in the situation, as going to the gym can be a very humiliating process for one's self. So look for the humor in yourself while you make changes and take baby steps. If you can laugh in a place, it feels more comfortable to be there. It will become "home." If you can't laugh at yourself, I guarantee, someone else can.