loaded_march (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
loaded_march) wrote2016-08-16 07:36 pm
loaded_march) wrote2016-08-16 07:36 pm
Entry tags:
At the gym
I haven't posted in a while, and yadda yadda yadda -- we all know the drill. I'm a sorry human being, I need to update more often, I gotta stop dropping off the face of the earth, I promise to do better (at which point I'll quickly and miserably fail, with apologies), etc.
Anyway.
I'm coming off of the second day of 12 hour shifts for a projected 4-day-in-a-row total, and it only occurred to me during a mid-groaning stretch that, hey, I went to the gym this morning, and this happened:
Old gym guy, who's nice enough except for his lecherous ways, ignorance of personal space, and inability to keep his fucking hands to himself, thanks, no, I don't want a goddamn hug, I'm sweating, you're sweating, I don't want contact with you oh my fucking god get away, comes up to me the way he always comes up to me every time he sees me at the gym, and starts to criticize me. As he does.
Except, it's not the usual, you should strength train, not do this fancy new age bullshit that you do (the fancy new age bullshit being high intensity bodyweight or weight-added workouts) harassment, where he challenges me to perform the same exercise he's doing (usually something dumb like a deadlift with a loaded bar) to prove that I'm not "in shape". He nags and nags and I eventually give in and not only exceed the number of reps he's making me do, but tell him it's "too light", then watch him chicken out of doing the upside-down against-the-wall handstand I normally do for my shoulders?
Instead, he's got a new tactic -- he first mimics me, then criticizes me to tell me that my perfectly normal, average, boring lateral shoulder lift is wrong because I'm using too much weight, and it's fucking up my form and I'm going to get hurt.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the regulars glance over with a scowl on his face. The regular sees me around enough to know what kind of workouts I do, and he's a couple of benches over so he's seen me lifting just a minute ago, and he knows damn well that there was nothing wrong with my form. He turns on the bench as if he's going to say something -- old gym guy is kind of an equal-opportunity irritant, and most people tell him to piss off.
Anyway, before the regular gets a chance to say anything, the old gym guy insists, "That's too heavy, you should be using the 5 lb weights so you don't hurt yourself."
I look down at the weights. I'm using 20 lbs. "It's too heavy?" I repeat, kind of confused.
"It's too heavy," he insists.
It's fucking 5 AM, I'm working 12 hour shifts this week, I haven't had a whole lot of sleep, I've got zero filter. What comes out of my mouth is a very loud scoff and a mocking, "Maybe for you."
The regular sitting a couple of benches over bursts out laughing, big and braying, completely unrestrained. Old gym guy, now offended, makes a face and goes to work out on the other fucking side of the gym. The regular gets ahold of himself, grins at me, winks, and gives me a thumbs-up.
Me? I put the 20 lb hand weights back on the fucking rack because those were my warm up weights, thanks, and I get the 30 lb weights and get back to business.
The regular sees me take the heavier weights and laughs so hard that I have to stop my work out to remind him to breathe, damn it, and get back to his chest presses, geez.
Morale of the story, people: don't let someone tell you what you can and can't do, because it's a load of fucking crock, and no one knows you better than you know yourself, and the hell with the rest of them.
Anyway.
I'm coming off of the second day of 12 hour shifts for a projected 4-day-in-a-row total, and it only occurred to me during a mid-groaning stretch that, hey, I went to the gym this morning, and this happened:
Old gym guy, who's nice enough except for his lecherous ways, ignorance of personal space, and inability to keep his fucking hands to himself, thanks, no, I don't want a goddamn hug, I'm sweating, you're sweating, I don't want contact with you oh my fucking god get away, comes up to me the way he always comes up to me every time he sees me at the gym, and starts to criticize me. As he does.
Except, it's not the usual, you should strength train, not do this fancy new age bullshit that you do (the fancy new age bullshit being high intensity bodyweight or weight-added workouts) harassment, where he challenges me to perform the same exercise he's doing (usually something dumb like a deadlift with a loaded bar) to prove that I'm not "in shape". He nags and nags and I eventually give in and not only exceed the number of reps he's making me do, but tell him it's "too light", then watch him chicken out of doing the upside-down against-the-wall handstand I normally do for my shoulders?
Instead, he's got a new tactic -- he first mimics me, then criticizes me to tell me that my perfectly normal, average, boring lateral shoulder lift is wrong because I'm using too much weight, and it's fucking up my form and I'm going to get hurt.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the regulars glance over with a scowl on his face. The regular sees me around enough to know what kind of workouts I do, and he's a couple of benches over so he's seen me lifting just a minute ago, and he knows damn well that there was nothing wrong with my form. He turns on the bench as if he's going to say something -- old gym guy is kind of an equal-opportunity irritant, and most people tell him to piss off.
Anyway, before the regular gets a chance to say anything, the old gym guy insists, "That's too heavy, you should be using the 5 lb weights so you don't hurt yourself."
I look down at the weights. I'm using 20 lbs. "It's too heavy?" I repeat, kind of confused.
"It's too heavy," he insists.
It's fucking 5 AM, I'm working 12 hour shifts this week, I haven't had a whole lot of sleep, I've got zero filter. What comes out of my mouth is a very loud scoff and a mocking, "Maybe for you."
The regular sitting a couple of benches over bursts out laughing, big and braying, completely unrestrained. Old gym guy, now offended, makes a face and goes to work out on the other fucking side of the gym. The regular gets ahold of himself, grins at me, winks, and gives me a thumbs-up.
Me? I put the 20 lb hand weights back on the fucking rack because those were my warm up weights, thanks, and I get the 30 lb weights and get back to business.
The regular sees me take the heavier weights and laughs so hard that I have to stop my work out to remind him to breathe, damn it, and get back to his chest presses, geez.
Morale of the story, people: don't let someone tell you what you can and can't do, because it's a load of fucking crock, and no one knows you better than you know yourself, and the hell with the rest of them.
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Mine isn't bad. I go in too early for there to be many people or even trainers, and the regulars (this includes old gym guy) pretty much know each other by now. They're a good bunch -- helpful, friendly, don't get in your way -- but every bunch has their bad apple. Old guy guy isn't even the worst, but he kind of bugs the women a lot, to the point that most of them don't come in that early anymore. Some of the regulars are protective and come over whenever they see old guy guy getting grabby or if I clearly need help, so it's not all bad, not by far.
I suspect that if I didn't go in that early in the morning, or when it was more crowded, I wouldn't be as lucky when it comes to the regulars!
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Stacey
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Guts
I think I'll stick to swimming, even if there are (equally intimidating) old naked ladies in the change room.
Re: Guts
So, yeah. Not shy.
But for reasons I won't get into, I used to be painfully shy. It took a very long time to get past it, though. Nowadays, if I'm quiet, it's because I'm quiet, not because I'm shy. When it comes right down to it, most people are shy of approaching other people, too.
And, hell, I don't give a fuck anymore. If I like the stripey socks one of the new guys is wearing, I'm gonna tell him. If I think the lady's purple hair is gorgeous, I'm gonna tell her. If I stare at the number of weights someone is slapping on the barbell and blurt out, "That's fucking awesome, do you need a spotter?", well, it's early in the morning, I don't have a goddamned filter yet, and the answer is usually, "Oh my god, yes, please, would you?"
The best thing about this isn't how I feel about talking to complete strangers. It's seeing people smile because someone talked to them.
But I gotta agree. The old naked ladies in the change rooms at the pool are fucking terrifying. It's why I'd rather swim in murky, leech-infested lakes where I might get eaten by Igopogo or something.
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He hasn't spoken to me for a week. So, win? Yes. Definitely a win!