To be fair, he probably never went anywhere. In fact, it was me who disappeared. I literally can't remember the last time I went to the gym. If I had to guess, I can't think of any occasion within the past month and half where I have even pretended like I am interested or care about my physical well-being. For some strange reason, I had a whim at 1:30 am last night (or I guess, this morning) that I should go to the gym today. I made the mistake of saying this aloud to Steve as we were falling asleep, and despite exhaustion he somehow remembered my promise this morning (but when I ask him during the day if he could just refill the Brita after he uses it last, you would have thought that I asked him to recite the Declaration of Independence. Scratch that, he would probably remember the words to that) at 7:30 am.
After much prodding, I finally awoke and pulled on one of my three sets of gym clothes, (which by the way live on the very highest shelf in my closest, obviously for a reason).
Steve: You can see your underwear through those pants.
Me: *inaudible mumble* meh, who cares?
Steve: Okay. Just wanted to go on record as having told you.
Finally, we make it out the door and soldiered on the long walk to the clubhouse. Okay, it's not that long, but everything feels slower and longer before 8:00 am. And of course it's like a freaking Gold's Gym in there. Or what I imagine a Gold's Gym looks like. And by that, I mean there's three other people there, two of which are on the only machine I actually use. The third early rising gym-goer?
I almost forgot about my dear friend, as many moon cycles have passed since I last saw him, although Steve does tell me about him every time he makes a morning trip to the gym, to which I tell him he is a terrible husband because he refused to take a picture of him for me to share with my loyal readership (I'm talking about you, Mom). As Steve headed to his usual corner treadmill, I followed closely by him as I couldn't even figure out what to do with myself since my trusty elliptical was occupied.
Me: Can you show me how to stretch?
Steve: You know the stretches. It's not hard, just do the same ones we alway do.
Me: I can't remember. I don't know what to do.
Steve: Well, why don't you use the bike? You might have to lower the seat.
Me: I don't know how. Can you do it?
Steve: Are. you. serious.
Me: *dead in they eyes, still not a fully functioning awake adult* Yes, fix it.
So just as I was about the get on the bike, Steve informed me that in fact my one and only piece of equipment was suddenly available. I immediately woke up and hopped over to my trusty machine. I set up my water bottle and most recent Entertainment Weekly, determined to make the most out of the fact that I was here, possibly turning over a new leaf. Maybe. Okay, probably not.
I set my phone down and pulled my headphones out of my pocket. It was then I discovered that I grabbed Steve's ear buds that came with his iPod, which clearly do not fit my tiny delicate earholes.
Me: *across the room* Uggggggggh.
Me: I took your headphones. My life sucks.
Steve: Can't you just use them?
Me: No. I have small ears.
I decided that this particular workout session was cursed. There was really no way it was going to go up from here, after all, I hadn't even started actually exercising yet and I was off to a terrible start. The only thing that would save me now would be if I finally achieved one of my all time fitness goals:
To get a picture of the elusive WL Man.
Okay, so it's not like an actual "fitness" goal, and I'm sure that Bob and Dolvett would encourage me to aim much higher, and you know, do something to actually help myself physically, but I have been trying to prove this man exists for months. What better time than with plenty of witnesses around to attempt to take a photo?
Let's just say I'm not used to being "discreet" when it comes to taking pictures. I'm normally screaming at people, trying to get them to pay attention to me or not hide every time they see my giant camera. When I started my usual half hour elliptical cardio workout, he was behind me. I thought about using my reverse camera to take a picture behind me, but I thought it was even weirder to take a picture of myself in front of all those people than to continue my inadvertent stalking of this person that I don't even know. Since he uses a lot of machines, he walked by me multiple times for antibacterial wipes to cleanse his circuit training machines. I figured that would be the best opportunity to attempt to capture a photo. Since I'm normally texting/taking notes for later blog posts at the gym anyway, I thought maybe it wouldn't be suspicious if I was just tapping away at my phone. I made sure the sound was off so I wouldn't get that little clicking noise and tried to hold my phone as low as possible. As he stood there, tearing wipes out of the dispenser, I bit the bullet and clicked the tiny camera icon on my iPhone.
And of course, the flash went off. Oops.
Turning off the flash is like, lesson #2 in Taking Sketchy Photos of People You Don't Know 101. I should probably sign up for a class with those perverts that submit photos to Girls In Yoga Pants. I immediately began to fumble with my phone like I was an old person who "accidentally" took a picture when they were really trying to text or something.
Me: Ahhh omg what is going on... this is so weird *nervous laugh*... my phone... guess I need that update... *more word vomit*
Everyone else: *continues working out, ignores me completely*
Luckily for me, the four other people in the gym, including WL Man, continued about as if a crazy person wasn't sniping mid-workout session photos while attempting to not fall off the elliptical machine.
I have to warn you: this is possibly the worst photo I have ever taken. But it's sort of appropriate, as this man has become my own personal Bigfoot, which is exactly what he resembles in this picture. A large blurry figure that really could be anyone or anything. Except you must trust me when I say that it is in fact, him. I hope you've prepared yourself, because this is a moment many posts in the making. Without further adieu, I give you... WEIGHT LIFTING MAN!
yep, definitely the worst picture ever taken... in the gym
Okay, now that I've seen this, I guess it isn't really all that exciting. I mean he looks like a normal guy, right?! Except you can now clearly see all of the things I've been describing to you all along. From the jeans to the shoes that clearly aren't sneakers, the fleece jacket to the Under Armour skull cap, this is clearly not someone who belongs in a tiny clubhouse gym. I haven't yet decided if he wears this outfit everyday or if he has followed Glamour's advice to invest in multiple pieces of something that you really love. Unfortunately for you, you cannot hear the noises. If I survive this encounter, hopefully next time I can move up to capturing a voice recording.
Of course after the photo snafu, I feared for my life for the remainder of my workout. I tried to act normal, and cool, but since I don't spend a lot of time exercising this proved to be really difficult for me. I thought I was doing okay until he approached me. Immediately I was like this is it. This is how I'm going to die. He is here to kill me. He just all of a sudden realized ten minutes after it happened that I had taken his photo and was going to broadcast it via the Internet for tens of people to see. You'd think that I would find solace in knowing that my husband was on the treadmill a mere 20 feet away, but he was so blissfully mesmerized by the NHL Network that I knew he would even notice if I did all of a sudden disappear. Just when I thought my life was about to end, he spoke.
WL Man: Can you move that? *pointing to my sweatshirt*
Me: *nervous fumbling wreck again* Oh, uh... yes of course! Tee hee, oh yeah, that's my sweatshirt. Just needed a place to put it. Ha hahahahahaha...
I always place my sweatshirt on the machine next to me because no one is ever using it. Well, unless you know who is around because he uses ALL of the machines. I was so flustered that I immediately grabbed my purple Lululemon sweatshirt and threw it ON THE GROUND next to me, which he probably sweats on EVERY DAY.
I felt like my skin was burning the entire time he did presses or curls or whatever the hell people do on those machines. Not just because he was his usual lovely self, grunting, panting, sweating (you know, all the things that ladies love), but because I kept imagining that any second, he was going to jump out of his seat and pummel me into the ground. By the way, if there happen to be any men reading this, do yourself and the ladies a favor- if you are having a particularly strenuous workout, please just keep the noises to yourself. Nobody needs or wants to hear them. I don't care if you feel like it helps. Unless you are like a crazy serious athlete training for the Olympics, there is no need to express yourself in that way when there are people around you. It's gross and weird, and if I ever made those noises at work or walking down the street, people would grab their children and run and I would be committed. Because.it's.weird. And if you are single and were hoping to meet someone at the gym, I can tell you right now that not one female I know has ever thought that a guy that makes those kind of noises in the gym is attractive, because if he's making those kind of noises in public, just imagine the kind of sounds he reserves for when there's no one else around.
Whoa. Sorry to get all political on you. That was my public service announcement. I'm done. But seriously, guys. Cut it out.
But wait, there is an addendum to this story. After the experience I had just had, combined with the fact I had to be at work, I hightailed it out of there so I could spramp myself in time to be on my way. Steve returned to our apartment about twenty minutes after I did, and informed me that I probably should have stayed at the gym. Turns out that after I left, WL Man and the other 2 people that were still there began discussing celebrities... Kim Kardashian... and Facebook. Those three are at the top of my list of things that are important to me, especially when it involves having discussions with other people. Had I misjudged? Were WL Man and I destined to be best friends due to our glaringly obvious common interests?!
No, I decided, almost immediately. There's no way I could be friends with someone that wears the same outfit everyday.