People Watching
By,
Jennifer E. Miller
A gym is a place teeming with all sorts of people. There’s
gym rats, those trying to lose weight, even some that attend for some
form of rehab. Many people simply go to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Which an array of gym-goer types, people watching is an intriguing aspect in this setting.
The Cheerful Instructor
The group fitness classes are held in, what the gym calls,
the studio. It’s a separate room, presumably, so that the instructor’s
microphone stays isolated to one area. The windows of the studio are right next
to the treadmills. The layout is important later in the story.
The class instructor greets newcomers with enthusiasm.
He/she explains the class which may include a combination of cardio and
weights, followed by core work and mild stretching on a yoga mat. The
instructor sugar coats the upcoming workout as a fun-filled hour sure to be the
highlight of your day.
Do not be fooled.
In the hour that follows are exercises specifically designed
for self-destruction. The instructor delivers the workout in such a way, that
the exerciser quickly determines their lungs’ incapacity level. The
instructions are gentle at first, then turn to demands of “move faster!” and
“jump higher!” followed by an encouraging “you can do it!” Stupidly, the
exerciser listens to said encouragement, and ups their personal intensity level
only to discover their oxygen levels have completely depleted. I think this is
known as exhaustion.
By the time the class reaches the so-called mild stretching
section, I wrap myself up, burrito style, in my yoga mat and nap away the
remaining torture session.
The cheerful instructor cannot be trusted. Ever.
Extreme Vanity
In reference to the self-destruction class above, let it be
known it is a sweat inducer. Not just a few beads clinging to my skin, but
rivers of salt water weaving down my body cascading into a pool at my feet. In
fact, I have to borrow the bucket and mop from the cleaning person afterwards. As
I look around at the other participants, I notice many are, like myself,
toweling off, fanning themselves, or gulping down a gallon of water. Then there
are the few, namely women, who aren’t sweaty; like at all. I know they’ve been present for the entire hour so what
gives?
Looking closer, I notice these women also have thick application
of makeup, complete with eyelash extensions which remains flawless. Not
only that, their hair is perfectly coiffed and shimmery as though they just
stepped off the salon chair and were sprinkled with pixie dust. I, on the other
hand, am a panting bulldog who finally emerged from the Sahara Desert. How
are these women able to maintain their vanity in a physically demanding
environment?
Even after several weeks, I find this baffling. During one class,
I lessen my self-destruction intensity level, due to an injury flair up. This
allows me to focus on the participants in question and zero-in on what the
heck was going on here. I finally figure it out: vanity over effort. Women sacrifice
effort in order to look like a fashion magazine model. Personally, I don’t see
the health benefit of moving around if you aren’t going to suffer like the rest of us. Here’s a hint to finding a better balance: doll yourself up after you actually work out.
To each their own, but vanity maintenance is not something I
strive for at the gym. My hair is pulled back, no makeup, and I’m lucky if I
showered within the last fifty hours. Usually my clothes match. At least I
have that going for me.
Lacking Self Awareness
On the contrary, there’s the gym-goer who lacks
self-awareness. The exerciser in question wears traditional grey sweatpants
with a drawstring waist and elastic cuffs, and a long-sleeve compression shirt.
On his head is a do-rag. Over his hands are what appear to be weightlifting
gloves. All this sounds fairly normal, eh? Now add a black Starcraft t-shirt
over the compression shirt and hiking shoes rather than tennis shoes. To
complete the ensemble, the do-rag has a bright blue penguin cartoon character
on it.
I study the person of interest as he approaches the
treadmill. (As you recall from the intro, the treadmills are located next to
the studio windows, directly in my view.) Stepping onto it, he stretches overhead and to the side;
stuff most people do. Next, he turns his body ninety degrees, away from the window, spread his feet in a straddle position, and folds in half. This would be a normal stretch, except the man with
no self-awareness pushes his buttocks against the studio glass. It
flattens like a pancake. That’s when I notice the biggest faux pas of all. Strapped
to the back of his waistband is a DiscMan with modern earbuds plugged into it. Not only that, he has a special
DiscMan-compatible pouch to keep it in. Whoever
has a working DiscMan from the 90s please stand up, I thought to myself.
After a few bounces in the straddle stretch, self-unaware
man stands up to begin his run. I now feel sorry for the cleaning person
because there is a splotch of butt sweat left behind on the window.
Lost for words, I laugh. I pointed out this
eclectic gym-goer to a friend, who exclaims, “Wow! He just popped out of a time
machine!” That sums up my observation, except I couldn’t pinpoint which era he
had been ejected from. A part of me was dying to know what he was listening to
on that DiscMan so I could narrow it down. Maybe his music choice was as bad as
his fashion sense and the time machine refused to transport him back.
People watching is a sure-fire way to be entertained. Whether
it’s observing over-enthusiasm, modeling sensations, time travelers, or anything else, it's
guaranteed in virtually any public setting.
