People At The Gym I Can’t Stand

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People At The Gym I Can’t Stand

April 17, 2008

Pole vault I’ve worked out for a long time in a lot of different gyms and cities. I’m pretty tolerant of others, but I’ve been finding that the older I get, the more frustrated I’ve become with certain groups of people. Lately, I’m fantasizing more and more about administering some dumbbell therapy to effect positive changes in the following groups:

The unsolicited advice-givers. If anyone cared about how you lost that weight or developed those guns, they’d ask. No one wants you to spot them, no one wants you to tell them about what you read in Meathead & Fitness magazine or what your chiropractor told you about the “right” way to do anything. You’re almost as bad as the people who have no idea what they’re doing.

People who have no idea what they’re doing. Of course you’re wearing jeans and using a curl bar to bench press, you have no idea what you’re doing. Do you fit into this group? If you frequently need to consult the little pictures taped to the machines to figure out how to use a particular piece of equipment, you do. If you’ve ever used a machine backwards without realizing it until someone told you, maybe you should consider a personal trainer. In either case, go away and don’t come back until you know what you’re doing.

Personal trainers. Personal trainers suck for these reasons 1) they’re dumb as stones and feel that because they’re “working” with their “client” they have a right to butt in on everyone else’s workout; 2) a lot of them are there for the ego massage of ordering someone else to do physical labor; and 3) many of them are only working as trainers to hit on attractive and fairly easy women. Those of you with trainers – seriously – have you ever considered the fact that you’re paying someone who’s just as out-of-shape/soft-as-you to get you in shape? How have you not noticed that you’re not one pound lighter or one bit more muscular than when you started with your “trainer” six years ago? The rest of us have, and we laugh at you behind your back.

Anyone who wears spandex as an outer garment. Spandex looks terrible on most people. And, the few on whom it is actually flattering are aware of it and get too much satisfaction out of distracting everyone around them. But, mostly, spandex is just plain wrong on 99% of the gym population. Seriously, I never saw my grandmother in anything tighter or more revealing than a ankle length dress. What makes you think I want to see your doughy, wrinkly ass wiggling it’s way around the gym on display to revile all?

People with an undeserved overly inflated opinion of themselves. Just because you managed to bang out a set of bench press at a whopping 95 pounds or successfully completed a spinning class doesn’t give you the right to strut around like you own the place. You also fall into this category if you somehow managed to craft an awesome upper body but have a giant, flabby ass. No one envies you – we all know what that sweat shirt around your waist means.

People who carry around way too much crap. You know the type – they drag their entire gym bag with them from station to station, taking up valuable gym real estate and tripping people in the process. Hey guy, do you really need two weight belts and six towels to make it through your workout? Hey older lady – that purse on your arm makes you look ridiculous. A sub-category of these people is the set that can’t work out with less than 84 oz of liquid, whether that be all together in a giant water bottle (who are you kidding?) or four different cups and bottles spread all over the bench I’d like to use.

People in the gym reading anything. It’s a gym people, not a library. First of all, if you can actually focus on the words on a page, you’re clearly not working out hard enough. Second, I don’t feel like waiting for you to finish the op-ed page before I can use the treadmill.

People who can only use the specific piece of cardio equipment you are already on, despite the fact that there are 20 identical, unoccupied machines right next to you. Do you think you lose more calories on your “favorite” versa climber? News flash – you don’t.

The stinkers. What’s the deal with not showering and/or wearing the same grimy t-shirt from the first Lollapalooza tour every damn day? Did you mistakenly buy “odorant” at the drug store?

Anyone who uses those freakin’ physio balls. I don’t know why people think that incorporating a large childrens’ toy into their workout somehow improves it, but these things have got to go. What makes you think that doing sit-ups or push ups on a wiggley surface will improve your fitness level? You guys must have really loved the crane kick scene from Karate Kid. Sorry to burst your bubble, but superior balance is not fitness.

People who don’t belong in a gym in the first place. A sign that you fall into this category is that you had trouble climbing up or down the stairs to get into the gym. Another such sign is that you are still in diapers.

More localized signs are as follows:

Chicago - if you’re only at the gym only to throw a basketball or football around with your boys, find a damn court or field and get lost or at least get the hell out of my way.

Houston - if you spend more time coordinating your leotard and makeup than you do actually working out, you should realize that gyms are terrible places to meet second husbands, Mary Kay saleswomen of the year, and go take up golf.

N.Y.C. - if you’ve taken 3,472 cell phone calls in the span of an hour on the treadmill wherein you concluded four deals and organized your social calendar for the week, you’re an idiot and need a secretary, not a gym.

L.A. - if you’ve spent your entire lunch hour staring at the calorie counter waiting until its number meets or exceeds the number of calories in the frozen yogurt you’re going to order as soon as you leave, you need a psychiatrist, not a gym.

Miami - save all of the hitting on every other guys/girls around for tonight, at the clubs, and spare the rest of us your pickup lines and inane chatter.

Washington, D.C. - Enough already with the sorority stuff. No one over the age of 19 cares if you were a Chi Omega six years ago when you graduated from American. That giant greek sweatshirt is not going to keep us from noticing that you’re terribly anorexic and wondering whether you actually should be in Papa John’s, and not a gym.

If you fit into any of the above categories, either change your frustrating ways or be on the lookout, ’cause I’m lurking behind a Nautilus machine just out of sight with a dumbbell to clock you with.

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