10:20am - Today I decided to go to the gym. Now, I realize that this is normal thing for people who have sportdorphins and get something out of this. I, however have never seen anything other than pain as a result of such endeavours. Further, grade nine gym was my lowest mark in high school, and I’m pretty sure I could fall off of a stationary bike. But in any case, I need health and stuff, so here we go.
10:21 - First step to gymming is to have an outfit. Since,
inexplicably in our culture, gym clothes have zero overlap with normal human
clothing, I have nothing to wear. Luckily, Barry has shelves of high tech
over-marketed polyester. I found a flattering pair of shorts (which are now
mine), although I’m not sure what the inner netting is for. (Note to Barry: you
didn’t need that, right? Wear underwear instead). In addition to the outfit, I
put on gym makeup, which means makeup that doesn’t face smear. Luckily, this is
the same as Singapore makeup.
10:30 - After finding the outfit, I have to find a way to
avoid killing myself and others in the gym. This means my ipod. The steps to
finding my ipod follow.
10:31 - Take suitcase down from shelf. Open suitcase to
find travel bag. Find out that ipod is not there.
10:33 - Find ipod in travel purse. Start untangling ipod
10:37 - Finish untangling ipod headphones. Find out that
ipod has no battery.
10:39 - Find battery charger and learn that ipod does not
play while being charged.
10:41 - Plug untangled headphones into phone and carry on
with more limited music selection. Make mental note to port ipod onto phone
somehow. This phone solution generally worked, except it froze when Cher came
10:45 - To gym, you must have a small white towel, casually
slung around your neck. Realizing that I sweat very little and mainly from my
face, I brought a face cloth. In retrospect, this was neither sporty nor
needed. After pondering gym bag selection, I’m on my way. I’ve decided, tough,
that if anyone else is on the elliptical, then I’ll just nonchalantly walk by
and go for a walk. I’m not prepared for other heavy machinery.
Note on the elliptical: Barry says the elliptical is the
machine for me, because it has less resistance than walking. Does that mean that
my fat heaviness hurts my feet less when I step? I believe so. Apparently the
shape of your walking path is an ellipse. Stupid name, unless you call the bike
a circular, and the treadmill a zigzagish.
Anyway, the elliptical is safe, Barry says, good for the joints, Barry
says. This is not the first time Barry has lied to me about sports,
10:47 - Anyway, Mr. E, the Ellipse tells me to “Quick
Start”. I quickly realize to ellipt forwards. However, I did not realize that I
should have set up my phone and stats first, and once again I risk falling off
the machine. Don’t worry, I recovered and made appropriately oval movements.
While Mr. E rudely asked me my weight after we just met, he didn’t share with
me how many extra calories I should get to eat now.
Now, what the heck is up with the arms? Strange poles stick
high above Mr. E, and you’re supposed to stick your hands up in the air in a
controlled flair as you ellipt. This has no semblance of human movement. My
arms swing by my side, and nowhere near as wide out as these poles. Further, I
have bad wrists, and I find out after 5:23 time that this ain’t good for
them. It was only at 9:56 that I found
out that there are little nubbin poles in front of me as well. Note: Barry
tells me afterwards that he mentioned the nubbins. These are not ergonomic
either, but allow me something to avoid falling off while reading the news.
Note: It turns out that listening to music is not enough to make me not enter a
murderous rage while sporting. Thus I need to read about how the world is
mistreating people at the same time in order to improve the balance.
11:09 - Mr. E tricks me into a 2 minute cool down. I try to
trick him back by taking pictures of his nubbin poles, but that led to me
nearly falling off again, so I think he won overall. Also, although I’ve done
cardio, I think that only 2 other leg muscles were involved.
At the end here, I should write a note about how
sportdorphins miraculously entered my life and saved me from my sport rages. Sadly
no, sports will always be like this for me. But at least now I have a new pair
of shorts and untangled headphones. (Editor’s note: The next day I also had a
sore back. Cool.)