Somewhere down the line, February became a month devoted to diversity. This being February and all, I thought it would be appropriate to write a Rusty Nail that dealt with equality, understanding and, of course, brotherhood. Instead, I am forced to write about a place where such ideal values don't exist. A place where the "haves" look down upon the "have-nots" with anger and disgust. Of course, I am speaking of the American University Jacobs Fitness Center.
In gym terms, I am definitely a have-not. I am not a fatty or anything. I swear. That being said, it is fair to say that going to the gym would be to my benefit. Of course, going to the gym as a have-not is a degrading experience. I mean, if it's this bad for me, I wonder how all the fat girls in sweatshirts feel?
(Speaking of fat chicks, "Sex and the City" is finally dead. Yay! My only regret is that I did not get the opportunity to slap Carrie around like that Russian ballerina. But now what will the lonely-hearted women do every Sunday night? My suggestion: NASCAR.)
The first thing I do at the gym is hit up the cardio room. This is never that bad. I can listen to some music and privately snicker at the "males" who use the elliptical machines. Real men use treadmills and bikes. There is no room for debate here.
No, it's in the weight rooms that this terrible discrimination shows its ugly face. It'd be one thing if I had no idea how to use these machines, but I don't have a real idea on how to work out. 20 reps, followed by a minute of rest, followed by 10 more reps. Does that sound right to you? Seriously, I have no clue. My whole workout routine was created by copying other people who looked like they knew what they were doing. Since I don't know how to work out, I end up on the shameful air pressure machines. And I understand the irony of me mocking guys using ellipticals while I use the air machines. Yeah, I love irony too. Thanks for pointing that out.
Anyway, I use the air machines. The looks I get from the big muscle guys are really priceless. I can almost hear them think, "Nerd!" Even the fat girls look down on me when I am using these emasculating devices. My only defense is, after a really tough set of arm curls, to press down with my right thumb for as long as possible. That way, the next person using the machine (hopefully a cute girl who finds my inability to work out properly charming) will think I am lifting twice what my puny biceps could ever handle. I am so crafty.
To my credit, I don't use exclusively air machines. I use weights too. Well, sometimes. When there isn't a line. And I can do 125 sit-ups in a row on that awful torture device by the water fountains (sometimes). Beat that! Someday I hope to work myself up to doing those medicine ball sit-ups or working out in the heavy weight room. I hope to be able to sit at the lunch counter of fitness and be able to stand on the same ground with the big and burly guys who can grunt and groan with the best of them. By next February, I will be one of those strongmen, willing to lend a hand to the meek using the air machines and ellipticals. I will help breaks the chains of inequality.
