Did something this week never did before.
Joined a gym. Ran for 25 years. Always outside. Early morning darkness. Asphalt. Freedom.
But here I am now. Inside. Cold weather got me. Bah humbug.
What follows is a journal, surveillance notes from first week:
Went into gym today. Saw guy at desk. Got sales pitch.
Spare me, friend. Wrote check.
Just show me to the simplest machine you got, pal. On button. Off button. We are just walking straight ahead. Pretend this is not Yuppieville.
Got on machine. Walked. Surrounded in here by lycra. Lots of lycra. Some spandex too. Lots of $$ wardrobe. Lots of planning.
I’m wearing sweat pants. Used in l991 to paint garage. Sweatshirt is obnoxious blue. UCLA basketball. Hooded. (Fashion Police are lurking, I know it).
TV sets everywhere in here. FOXNEWS is on one. Sean Hannity is screaming about something. (Down, Sean, down! Good boy…..There’s a biscuit). A bit early for hard politics. Jesus.
TODAY show on another TV set. Matt Lauer at desk. Funny – last time I went into a gym in the l990s, looking for someone, Matt was on. Had hair then. He would fit in well with us at this gym, if you receive my meaning.
One guy working up quite a frenzy on some sort of stair-climbing type machine. A woman on a machine behind him. Another woman on machine ahead of him. Life is just one large playground. Boys playing kickball show off for the girls. Nothing changes.
Second day. Guy comes over to me. He has seen me. He feels we have a bond (he is wrong; leave me alone, pal).
“A couple hot chicks come in every morning about 7:45,” he says, talking out of the side of his mouth, acting like this is valuable stock information. “Mother and daughter. We have a rule. OK to mom. Not the daughter. Daughter is about the age of our daughters!”
Soon, tandem shows up. Guys stage-whispers to all of us, back row: “Hit the deck! Eyes down! 12 o’clock high!” He is proud that he is not staring a hole through this unlucky l9-year-old. I can’t believe I get this AND a workout for $49 per month.
Guy off to my left is getting ready to leave. Has been on a walking machine. Goes over to paper towel rack. Snaps one out of the dispenser REALLY LOUDLY!
Walks back to the machine. Wipes it down (I think he wants us to know He Is A Very Responsible and Clean Human Being).
I look at the numbers on my machine. Have I reached 10 miles yet or perhaps 15? I once ran the Boston Marathon. Believe me, this is all kids’ stuff to me…
Dial shows 1.4 miles walked. 96 calories burned. 48 minutes here. Memo to file – tell guy at desk – machine apparently not working.
Soon, time for me to leave.
There is a “cool way” to walk out of the gym, clearly. Kind of a an aloof “strut.” Damn. I trip over untied sneaker.
I pull the really big hood of my UCLA sweatshirt over my head.
Walk into parking lot.
No one needs to know I was here today.
Dan Warren is a Scarborough trial lawyer. He can be reached by private Facebook message at Jones & Warren Attorneys at Law, or by email at jonesandwarren@gmail.com.
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