February 26th, 2010
I don ‘t think it’s any secret that I hate the treadmill. The minute I step on that awful machine I remember my little hamster from grade school running in her wheel. My husband always wonders why I use it if I hate it so much, but it’s a means to end. I want to run a marathon, and because I live in the snowy, hilly city of Pittsburgh, the safest and most convenient option for me is the gym–a necessary evil. Like visiting in-laws straight out of ”Everybody Loves Raymond”. You don’t want to spend the holiday with them, but for the sake of a happy marriage you suck it up and deal with it. Not that I know from experience or anything, I’ve just seen enough episodes of “Everybody Loves Raymond” to be able see the similarities.
Anyhow, I had a 5-6 mile tempo run on schedule and I had planned to take my mind off of the sisyphean feeling of the treadmill by tweeting my running playlist because I have seen many runners blogging and tweeting in need of new music. I was doing this happily for 2.5 miles when Runner Man joined me. Runner Man entered my life when Dave and I moved to this apartment complex back in May. Everytime we saw him he was running–always in some random part of town and at random times of the day. We were pretty convinced that he ran all day all over the West Hills of Pittsburgh.
Well, since I was banished to the gym after my stress fracture, I found that Runner Man also runs at the gym while his buddies do other workouts. I learned something about him and his friends: they don’t wear deodorant. And I’m sure you can imagine, whether or not you want to, how much stink some guy who runs that much makes with no deodorant in a tiny, tiny gym.
I forced myself to run until 3 miles and quickly hopped off. In less than 5 minutes his stench was permeating the room. It was a great decision because as I was wiping down the machine, grandpa came in sporting the tighest spandex I have ever seen. They really didn’t leave much to imagination. And trust me, I tried not to look, but like I said before the gym is tiny and the walls are almost entirely covered by mirrors. I didn’t have many options.
Amazingly I made it out of there safely while holding my breath and closing my eyes. I changed into outside running gear and ran my 2 mile loop garmin-less. It was so cold, and so windy, but it was fresh. I’d choose burning lungs over burt nose hairs any day.
I felt like I kept a serious pace (for me). I wouldn’t be surprised if I was running at a 9:00 min/mile pace. Which is really good, yet really bad. Distance and frequency don’t seem to hurt my foot, but intensity does. I’m currently icing it, and I have bribed Dave with my favorite green monster if he massages it for me later. It’s amazing that I can bribe my husband with spinach. Anyone else?
So, meet the “Abby look”. This is apparently something my parents commonly saw during my childhood, and today I’m bringing it back in honor of Runner Man and Grandpa Spandex.
If you could add to the list of posted gym rules, what would you add? I’d add a mandatory deodorant application FOR SURE!