Work-Out Partner

I have a new hobby. It's called exercise. Have you heard of it? It's pretty sweet.

I prefer to work out at a gym, not only because of all of the great equipment and fitness classes available, but also because I can continue to practice my Scarcity Myth Experiment techniques on the many attractive men at the gym. (Priorities, right?) Oh, and the company I work for pays for my gym membership if I go twelve times a month! So that means I'm working out with great equipment, awesome fitness classes, and attractive men FOR FREE. Does it get any better than that?

Didn't think so.

One of the other things I like to do at the gym is people-watch. There are some real characters at that place. My favorites are the guys who yell at the top of their lungs when they're lifting weights, and the people who sing along with their iPod while walking on the treadmill, completely unaware that everyone around them can hear them. And then there are the die-hards, the ones who use that one crazy resistance machine that everyone else is afraid of. Or the ones who contort their bodies in all kinds of crazy positions because they read in Rock Hard Fitness! magazine that standing on your head while curling 20-pound weights with your toes reduces the risk of throat cancer by 55 percent. These people are my heroes.

One of the main groups of people I love to watch are the couples. (I'm sure that comes as a surprise.) You can always tell when a man and a woman working out together are involved romantically. The younger couples are flirtatious, and usually very hot. The couples who appear to have been married for 30-plus years are typically diverse in their gym activities. One day they're doing yoga, the next day it's the elliptical, the next it's swimming. You can tell these people just love being active, and they love being active together.

Of course, I'm talking about the people who are regulars. But what about the average joe couple? What about the boyfriend and girlfriend who've been dating for only a couple of months? Or the husband and wife who haven't stepped foot inside a gym since before they walked down the aisle? I'm guessing that, in these cases, the desire to work out together might be a little different.

I've only had one boyfriend with whom I went to the gym, and it wasn't fun. At all. I was self-conscious, first of all. I'm not one of those girls who looks pretty while working out. No, I sweat and my face gets red and there's jiggling... it's just not a pretty sight. Plus, it was awkward to know when to talk to him and when not to. And everyone around us could hear our conversations. None of it felt natural to me, and I prefer to feel good when I exercise, not awkward and insecure.

On the other hand, I also don't like the isolating feeling of going to the gym by myself. I love my workouts and I want to talk to someone about them! I want to share the ups and downs of setting a fitness goal and then accomplishing it. I want for someone to hold me accountable, and for me to hold someone else accountable. It seems like a boyfriend/husband would be a natural fit for such a role.

What do you think? Let's take it to the polls!

Working out at a gym with your spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend... Yay or nay?

All in the name of science, people.

Alas. 

Why on earth, you ask, am I saying "alas"?

Well, because the Scarcity Myth Experiment (SME) has come to an end. It's been a fun three weeks. I've spanned the greater area, looking at attractive men, flashing them smiles and shouting out hello's. I've scouted public places in search of my next SME subject, sometimes to my dismay and other times in jubilation at the large number of options available. 

But... alas. It is over.

Today was the last day of SME and I wanted to go out with a bang. So of course, I went to the gym. (I find I do my best work there.) And once again, there were plenty of attractive men strutting their stuff around the gym. But the one I was most intrigued with was the guy who was working in the childcare room. He had dark hair, dark eyes, a smile that could melt gold, and, oh yeah, HE WAS PROTECTING MY CHILD. Does it get any better? 

When I dropped Julietta off at the room, the guy flashed that brilliant smile at me and said hello. I think he may have been familiar with SME, because that right there was by the book. I returned a shy hello and went on my way. 

But when I came back from my workout to pick up Julietta, SHE WASN'T THERE. I panicked. The other girl who was supposed to be watching the kids was looking around the room as if Julietta were hiding or something. I gave my guy a look of desperation, and he swooped in, all knight-and-shining-armorish, and calmly said, "Oh, don't worry. She's just using the restroom." Smile. He then proceeded to tell me how adorable my daughter is. I wanted to marry him, right there in that room filled with Legos and Barbie dolls.

Sure enough, Julietta came out of the restroom safe and sound, and it was time for me and my knight to part ways. I gathered all of the confident composure I could muster, looked him directly in the eye, smiled, and said, "See ya." 

Now THAT is a happy ending to the silliest experiment I've ever conducted in my entire life.

Chris Farley would've been so disappointed

Today was the first real day that I could participate in the third-week assignment of SME. This is because on Monday and Tuesday, I did nothing but go to work and then come home. I bet you're wondering how I could possibly be single with such an active social life.

But today I went to the gym. All kinds of options at the gym, ladies, is all I'm sayin'. If you're not motivated to exercise by the idea of losing weight or anything like that, perhaps a little eye candy will kick you into gear. IT'S WORTH A SHOT.

So anyway... SME. Today's opportunity presented itself quite easily, actually, because the guy looked at me first and smiled! Made. My. Day. But then I was like, oh yeah, I need to say something to him! And I was THIS CLOSE to saying "Which way to the weight room?" like I joked about in an earlier post. (Side Note: It's starting to freak me out a little that I'll say something on this blog and then later it kind of comes true. So please take note that I am sarcastically joking that I'll win a million dollars and a villa in Italy.)

Back to the guy at the gym. I panicked a little and therefore opted for the oh-so-safe "Do you know where I can get a towel?" He pointed his muscular arm in the direction of the front desk, I thanked him, flashed him another smile, and well, that's about it. I walked away hitting myself for not asking the whereabouts of the weight room after all.

Any other Scarcity Myth experimenters out there? I want to know if it's been as much of a whopping success for you as it's been for me. Holla back.

The Forrest Gump in me

But then, there are opportunities for healing everywhere, even in your own back yard.

I had the day off of work today and the weather this morning was glorious. There's a bike/jogging trail near my house and I'd never really used it, so I figured today was the day to check it out. 

The trail winds through the whole town, kind of on the outskirts, but in the midst of trees and streams. It's a really cool asset for a town to have. Once I stepped onto the trail, I started running. And then I started smiling.

The sky was a bright blue. The leaves on the trees towering above me pierced the sky's blue in sharp contrast. The wind blew lightly against my face, in a way that made me feel like some sort of aerodynamic machine.

I couldn't get enough of this trail, this beautiful nature surrounding me. I ran farther and longer than I ever have in my life. And that's huge for me. (When I was in 7th grade, I had a crush on the star of the track team. To be closer to him, I joined the team, even though I NEARLY HYPERVENTILATED every time I ran around the track. And guess what happened? About two weeks after I joined, I overheard the handsome track star telling one of his buddies that I "look funny" when I run. The love of my life, the one for whom I suffered physical pain, was now making fun of me for the very thing I thought would draw him to me. I've had a grudge against running ever since.)

This time, though, it didn't hurt. This time, my feet were moving in the same synchronized pattern that my breath was flowing. I was in a continuous state of moving forward, leaving behind me the disappointment of my parents' divorce, the heartbreak of past relationships, the fear of the future. And of course I pounded the ground a little harder when I pictured the face of that stupid seventh-grade track star boy. Ha. Look who's laughing now.

Every once in a while another jogger/biker/walker would pass by me, and we would greet each other with a nod, a smile or a simple hello. We all had this unspoken sense of kinship, brought together by something we had in common. It's like what we were really saying to each other was, "Hello, friend. I'm glad to see that you're making your life better today. I know it's challenging, but you'll get through it. We're all in this together."

It was in the middle of the run that I recognized the power of self-discipline, and how I needed to apply it to every area of my life. That, and the concept of leaving behind that which drags me down, and moving toward that which makes me new and improved.

After I crossed my self-appointed finish line (which, for drama's sake, was preceded by the only uphill slope on the trail), I smiled, said a prayer of thanks... and walked it out.