Friday, May 19, 2006

Hey, Do I Work Out?

If we all hated gym class as kids, why are we paying to go to gyms as adults?
Maybe it's because the modern, well-equipped gym doesn't have rope climbs or sicko gym teachers who make you play dodge ball in shorts that are best accessorized with wedgies.
Gym clothes are still an issue, as far as I'm concerned. This rainy winter I joined a gym, but only after taking a tour and ascertaining that there weren't uniforms. The men didn't all wear stretchy tank tops and the women weren't all tightly coated in Danskin. Plenty of folks were wearing baggy sweats or XXL T-shirts over their 36-pack abs.
Furthermore, the exercise machines weren't installed behind plate glass along a busy sidewalk. What genius invented that? Let's see, we'll get people to pay thousands of dollars to run in yuppie cages in a zoo that's cruel to observers.
No, my idea was to get in shape, and getting in shape is ugly. My gym embraces the young, the old, the delt-enlarged and the cellulite-pocked. That's because it's not a commercial gym run by the kind of people who loved gym class in school. The gym is part of a nearby community center where fitness is not a competitive matter and nobody's trying to pick anybody up. Or maybe I'm just too winded to notice.
Working out is working out.


Blogger PEFACommish said...

Rob's first trick to working out: quit your job.

I'll have to try that one.

6:40 PM  
Anonymous jen's mom said...

"He had made up a little hum that very morning, as he was doing his Stoutness Exercises in front of the glass: Tra-la-la, Tra-la-la, as he stretched up as high as he could go, and then Tra-la-la, tra-la-oh, help!-la, as he tried to reach his toes."

Congratulations on your great new blog! Welcome to my bookmarks!

8:09 PM  
Blogger cranky said...

Thanks to my vast readership for your support. Now I have to work out my pectoralwritoid muscles.

11:02 AM  

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