Any Way You Want It

OK, so I am overly proud of the fact that I have been working 4-5 times a week for the last year.  Yes, I know for some of you that is an utterly unremarkable feat, as once upon a time it was for me.  Then kids interfered.  Also – laziness.  However, I consider myself back on track. 

Sometimes when I go to the gym to run on the treadmill, my friend laziness stops by for a visit and I never quite make my target.  Or set a target, for that matter.  For that reason, I have taken to attending classes at the gym.  It’s much harder to just quit mid-class, pretending that was your intent all along, than it is to do the same thing when you are running (or, as I sometimes like to call it, ‘running’).  Note that later in this rant I will contradict that very statement. Taking these classes has opened me up to a whole world of bizarre social mores, as gym classes are truly their own world, not entirely different from, say, how a prison has its own set of rules.  So I have been approaching my trips to the gym somewhat the way I envision anthropologist might, and here is what I have learned.

Do you hate a cool breeze playing across your supple, limber self as you work out? Then what you want to do is set up your mat and weights squarely in front of the air conditioner and argue with any sweating, panting classmate who comes over begging you to, for the love of all that is good and holy, turn it on.  I see this all the time.  In recent weeks, this placement of a non-a/c lover in front of an a/c unit has resulted in the following scenes:

• A non a/c-loving classmate (is that what we are? Yes, let’s go with ‘classmate,’ it will come in handy later)  who, as prescribed above, had situated himself directly in front of the a/c vents, chasing after another classmate to scream at her because she dared suggest he let us have just a hint of fresh, cool air.  As the rest of us continued with our lunges.
• Another non a/c-loving classmate who arrived extra early, presumably to make sure she was right on top of the offensive device, and not, say, 50 feet away on the other side of the room where the air remains still no matter the a/c setting, responding to the use of the machine by donning a down coat for the remainder of her workout.  And a wool scarf. Over her waist-length wig.

The class is all about you.  When planning your day’s itinerary, don’t for a second consider the time your gym class begins – or ends, for that matter.  Consider the class schedule as mere suggestions – I mean, the class isn’t really underway until you begin contracting your abs, anyway, regardless of when the other 30 people showed up.  So whenever you are ready, join the class already in progress.  The other people don’t mind that they have to stop mid-squat to let you by as you make your six trips to get your equipment and set up shop.  Really they don’t.  And if you should choose to leave early, it is just as much fun for your classmates to stop their cool down to allow you to make those same half dozen trips to the back of the room, this time in reverse.  Yes, they carved out the time to get there before the class started and stay straight through to the end, but that’s because their lives are just not as interesting or important as yours.  

Speaking of setting up, that is a whole megillah unto itself.  Don’t arrive for the Sunday 9:15 class after 8:45 or there will be no space for you.  Not because your classmates have already gotten there, but because one classmate has appointed herself class parent and set up gear for her 15-20 closest friends.  And you are not one of them.  She is standing there, all alone, surround by equipment, and the only space left for you is that one spot where you cannot see the instructor at all – but you can see yourself from four different angles, each less flattering and more torturous than the next.  This is an experience I would wish on my worst enemies (I totally would – I am not nice enough to not wish it on them, but I am honest at least.  And, not coincidentally, those enemies are some of the very people whose faces I picture during my kickboxing class.  One day I’ll thank them for the great workouts they contributed to – hopefully while I am also turning them down for a loan to buy their dream house or rejecting their kids from their first choice college or whatever other, non-violent revenge fantasies I hope to live out).

Of course, most of the class is showing up in Lululemon, but that is not actually the required attire (in my neighborhood you have to read that more than once).  You should really wear whatever you want.  A tube top is a great option.  Just to be sure you understand me, I mean a six-inch stripe around your torso that almost entirely covers your breasts.  Pair that with see-through leggings and no underwear.  No one will stare.  Might I also recommend workout clothing you wash after every 6^th class.  See if that doesn’t make the non a/c classmates change their tune real fast.

Reread these rules until you feel comfortable you can live by them and then I’ll see you at the gym.  I’ll be the one in the tube top. And waist-length wig.