Gym Karma

One of the things I miss most about the military is being able to just go workout whenever I happen to have time. In the civilian world where owners worry about silly things like profit and loss margins, you can’t really do that. I’m actually not even sure if I’m supposed to do it during my lunch hour. I could ask, true. If I did that, though, I might get an answer I don’t like. So, going with the principle that it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission, I sneak to the gym as many days as I can. And I do mean sneak. I invoke all my military anti-terrorism training. I vary my route every day when leaving and re-entering the building. I often carry a notepad so it looks like I’m going to talk to someone. I walk by my boss’s office so he “just saw me” if anyone is looking for me. I do everything but put on camo paint. It’s all very clandestine…and probably unnecessary. Nevertheless, I have my lunch routine down to a science. I drive 8 minutes to the gym, take 4 minutes to get inside and change clothes, work out for 30 minutes, shower and get dressed in 8 minutes, walk to my car in 2 minutes, and drive back in 8 minutes. One hour exactly. It runs as precisely as a German train schedule. You know, except when it doesn’t.

Recently, it all went wrong and ended up with someone being victimized. I was at the gym getting my 30 minutes in. It was cardio day so it felt like the 30 minutes would never end. I was on the treadmill doing some interval training, which consisted of me alternating between running slow and walking slower. I kept trying to convince myself that I decided on interval training because it was an effective fat burning strategy. Truth is, I just didn’t want to pass out on the treadmill. Someone told me once that running is a perishable skill. I didn’t know they meant I might perish. Anyway, I finished up, stretched once, and headed for the shower.

As I get to the shower, I see a sign that says it’s closed and being cleaned by a female. Crap! Who decides to have the showers cleaned during lunch hour?! You know, the one time during the business day when people are on a tight schedule. Great management decision there. And it’s not like I can skip showering. I can smell myself and I look like a drowned rat. So I decide to just go sit on a bench in the locker room and wait. Maybe she will see me, realize I’m waiting, and be quick. So I wait. Ten minutes go by, nothing. She’s in her own world, and it’s a very, very slow world. At the 15 minute mark we make eye contact. She even smiles and says hello.  Sweet, she knows I’m waiting and will pick up the pace. Nope. Another five minutes go by. Now I’m a mixture of panic, frustration, anger, and confusion. Who do I need to yell at to get things moving? Should I text my boss? Should I just put on deodorant and go? Should I organize a military coup and take over control of the gym?

Finally, after 25 minutes, I ask her if she is almost done because I have to get back to work and possibly get fired. She apologizes and says she didn’t realize I was waiting. Maybe she just thought I was fascinated watching her work. Or maybe she didn’t want to leave me alone because she thought I might go into cardiac arrest at any time. Who knows? Anyway, she tells me she is finished with the showers to just go ahead while she cleans the bathroom. Say what??? You want me to shower while you’re still here? She must have seen the terror on my face and assured me she would be done in just a minute. I start weighing my options and none of them are good. This is why you don’t mess with karma. I can continue to wait and risk getting in trouble at work or I can go against every instinct in my being. Ultimately, I trudge to the shower with its smoky glass window and clean up, confident she’ll be gone when I get out. Wrong again. As I walk back to the dressing room wearing a towel, she pops out of the bathroom area. A-W-K-W-A-R-D! I stop frozen and horrified. She looks unimpressed, which just added insult to injury, and gets her stuff and finally leaves.

I’m not sure who was the victim in all this but I do know who the winner is—my therapist. With all the sessions I’m going to need this winter, it looks like he’s getting a new boat for summer.