Another thing about the gym...

I may have mentioned this before, but I really hate gyms. I've never been into weight training (despite brief dalliances associated with a few fruitless attempts to put on some muscle mass and some requisite courses of physical therapy), and conceptually, treadmills (and really, all cardio machines) just seem like glorified hamster wheels. And I'd much rather be outside.

At least in the general sense.

But when it's 7°F outside, with a -15° windchill, or the roads and sidewalks are covered with ice or slush (or the snowbanks have just completely absorbed the sidewalks and shoulders), sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. I still don't like it, but it's better than being hit by a car or pulling a muscle slipping on the ice.

But today I found another, specific, reason why I don't like working out at the gym.

The smell.

And I don't mean just the general stuffiness of running inside, although that's certainly true as well. No, I'm talking about having to work out next to a specific person that smells. Stinks. Reeks.

Unfortunately, I didn't figure this out until I'd already been on the treadmill for a few minutes. I guess it just wafted over from a change in air currents, a shift in stride (out of the corner of my eye, I could see him regularly readjusting his shirt), or maybe he just put out waves of stink -- like oceanic tides, or solar flares. But by the time I noticed, I felt like it was too late to move and restart my workout elsewhere.

Outside, you could just pass the person, or maybe just turn off onto another road or trail. But in the gym, you're stuck, not even a gentle cross-breeze providing respite. I'd catch the readout on his machine -- 2 miles, 3 miles, 20 minutes, 30. How long is he going to stay on there? I found myself trying Jedi mind tricks to get him to leave:

You're tired, you want to go home now. You could really use a V8. You think you left the stove on, maybe you should go and check.

Actually, I don't think I was that level-headed. I think it was more like:

Finish your run. Finish you run. Please go. Please, finish your run. Oh God, please go away. Go away. Please. Go. Away. Now.

I do have to admire his commitment to his workout, because he just kept going and going and going. Around mile 4 (my 2nd mile), he hit some buttons on the treadmill, slowed down and got off. And inside, I leapt for joy.

And then he came back and started a new workout program.

Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!

After more than a half an hour he finally left.

I don't think it was a hygiene problem, but maybe just some kind of body chemistry thing -- the guy could probably take a shower every 15 minutes, and the second he started working out and breaking a sweat, the waves of odor would just come pouring out with it. Or maybe he just didn't do his laundry regularly.

Answers unknown, but maybe that'll learn me to take a little more time selecting an available treadmill.

And leave me wishing for warmer weather and better road conditions.