So the new year has arrived! And with it comes the annual migration of guilt-ridden souls to the gym. They swarm to the nearest treadmill, set the speed to a nice, comfortable jog and try to sweat off their excess holiday weight and 6 months of wasted gym membership fees.
Usually, I think it's great when people get off the couch and start moving. But when they all do it at once (January 1, anyone???), it strikes a nerve in me. Why? Because they take my spinning spot, they take my parking spot, and they make me wait 30 minutes for treadmill.
Yesterday I forwent my morning gym ritual in the name some extra shuteye. I came thisclose to eschewing the gym altogether, but my pants were feeling a bit a tight, so I knew I needed to haul my booty to Fit for a 5:30 spin class. All was well on the way there -- I was humming along to some Madonna, daydreaming about dinner (hey, it's what gets me through the class!) and feeling pretty all-around fabulous. Then I got to the parking lot. And there was not one free space. I kid you not. No.parking.at.all.
I whipped around to the other side of the building and parked near a pizza joint. Great, just what I need to get motivated -- the smell of delicious pepperoni pizza. I was tempted to forget the workout and just chow down on some good ol' Italian pie, but I resisted and walked around to the front of the building. It was now 1 minute to 5:30, and I knew I was in trouble. The class may be completely full.
The entrance was like a Jimmy Choo 50% off sale. Men and women, young and old, cramming three people at once into the front door. I pushed my way through and ran up the stairs where I met the backside of my enemy -- another woman in cycling shoes and Spanx-tight bike shorts.
She was ahead of me, but my legs are long, so we reached the class at the same time. Our eyes met -- who would give up? I thought briefly about my "sorta" new year's resolution (be nice....remember?) but this was no time for kindness. I was here to sweat, not become Mother Theresa. So I ignored formalities (she was technically there first) and threw open the class door, surveying the crowded room. There was one seat left. Who would get it? Would I need to reenact the scene below with my new spandex-wearing enemy?
I know, the suspense must be killing you. Although it kind of ruins the story, the instructor gave up her bike, so in the end we both got seats. However, I was relegated to the far side of the room, so I couldn't see myself in the mirror as I pedaled away. (I am sure that sounds conceited, but watching myself really helps with my technique. I swear!)
Class was over an hour later and I was home soon after, stuffing my face with some delish mac n'cheese. But the whole ordeal was just annoying. A class shouldn't go from 10 people to 40 in one week...and how dare that new guy take MY usual bike! Fortunately I'll only have to deal with this insanity for another couple of weeks...come February, the gym will be back to its normal, empty self. God bless broken resolutions.
XOXO,
Jen
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