Gym’mind if I don’t?
Few things are harder than mustering the courage to leave a comfy, hungover state and head to the gym. Having plenty of time on my hands lately has meant I ponder a lot. To gym, or not to gym, that is the question. The gym doesn’t seem natural. Everything about it is so wrong. Unfortunately, the prospect of running around in daylight for other people’s entertainment is even worse. For the unsporty and slightly overweight, then, the gym is the way forward.
But getting there is such an effort.
The mission to get there is even more off-putting when all that awaits you is something you desperately cannot be bothered to do and a feeling of inadequacy and judgement.
The trek to the gym can involve a lot of running into “friends”. People you shared that drunken chat with the night before. For me this usually revolves around food. They have food, I am drunk, and I want that food. I start a conversation and soon I am eating their food. I do not think of the implications this may have for future life.
That one person will be on your bus and there will be the inescapable awkward eye contact. I know I know them, they know I know them, and we know we know each other. Some sort of polite chat must follow, but that ridiculous confidence boost of alcohol has disappeared and the food is not there. What are my incentives for talking to this person?
Small talk with someone you don’t have much to say to is dire. Both of you know you’d rather not be talking but the silence that follows your limited conversation is almost painful, so pointless questions seem to be the only way out.
Sometimes I’m in luck: no one is around. I keep my head down until I reach the gym and I’m there. However, the chances of bumping into someone you don’t want to see are greatly increased by the fact that you will inevitably look like shit on your way to the gym. When I look like shit, it’s certain that I will see someone I fancy. In these cases I never have anything to say because their sheer beauty dries up any ideas for conversation in my head.
The mission to get there is even more off-putting when all that awaits you is something you desperately cannot be bothered to do and a feeling of inadequacy and judgement. The gym holds some of the more beautiful creatures that exist on this planet. The sort of people put on earth to make you feel bad. People hired by the gym for no real reason, just for a laugh.
Going there with a friend always seems safer. For example, if you become more red and sweaty than is socially acceptable, you can turn to your friend and say very loudly: “Oh my god I am so red and sweaty, it’s disgusting, but I am never usually like this”. And your friend can reply: “No, you’re usually very beautiful”. We see how this is better, yes?
After the gym, there is always that shared feeling of achievement and the talk of the next meal. Post gym mentality is the same the world over: ‘I came into contact with a piece of equipment at the gym, I deserve three courses tonight’. It’s simple logic.
It’s been two hours, and I’m definitely not at the gym. Although I appear to be fundamentally against it, I do understand the gym’s existence and appreciate it from afar quite regularly. I have even managed to complete the treacherous journey there in the past. But it’s just not my time today.
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