Get off my track. You don’t belong there. Those white lines painted cleanly along the red gravel? Those white lines were painted for me. And the lone spin bike tucked away in the corner? That spin bike was tucked away for me. The track is mine and you can’t have it. And yes I am in kindergarten (I told you—sharing is not my strong point).
But it’s not just the track.
Get out of my gym. You know, the gym with the door on some delayed-reaction mechanism that allows it to open just in time to hit you square in the face (true story). I always thought the gym was a hybrid of a florescent-lit cave and a labyrinth of weights and cardio machines. But its my gym and I love it and everyone is crowding it and it doesn’t liked to be crowded. Nowadays, the good ellipticals are always taken and so is the mirror space where I usually study my abs to see if they have appeared yet (they haven’t, just in case you all were wondering).
In the short time that I have been here, I have come to think of the third lane from the middle as my lane on the track. And the elliptical by the cleaning wipes as my elliptical. So part of me wants to just tell everyone to go find their own gyms. Or at least stay out of my lane on the track.
I’m about to do some serious social profiling: I have this very dear friend. She is an opera major. She owns more dresses than is humanly possible. She refuses to sweat. And yet last week, she found me specifically to say that not only was she wearing track shorts and a t-shirt, but she had gone for a run that day. The floor fell from beneath me and I plunged into utter shock and horror. You?! Went for a run?! On MY track?!
Oh but it is not just her. Herds of frat stars lifting weights that could probably daunt even Atlas. Peppy girls convincing themselves that the freshman fifteen isn’t real. Runners. Cyclists. Yoga-ers. They congregate at the gym…or the track. I even saw some people doing tai chi yesterday behind the soccer goalie. They told me I had abnormal amounts of energy and that I talked too much. I never really liked tai chi anyway. Anyway, hundreds of people every day are making their daily pilgrimage to sweat away their problems and burn off the HAWC’s irresistible cheesecake cups.
I have a good reason for this: it is the beginning of the year and everyone is trying to put their best fitness foot forward. Just give it a few more weeks and grades or Greek life or club events or lack of determination will keep people on the couch and off the concrete.
As amazing as that sounds to my selfish wanna-be fitness self, part of me almost hopes that all these people stick around. Their very presence is making me get creative with my workouts. All the ellipticals are taken? Sprint every staircase on campus instead. The track is occupied? Run down to Ralphs and back (with a stop by Malibu Yogurt & Ice Cream of course). Have a speech for COM 180? Wear heels and workout your calves on the CCB stairs.
So I guess I should say thank you to all the beginning-of-the-year fitness enthusiasts who are forcing me out of my usual routine of elevating the good ol’ heart rate. I mean. I guess I should. You’ll be gone in a few weeks anyway. But seriously sometimes I just want to say…get off my track.
