Nude by Christmas

38 years old, 102kg. One of those numbers is about to change.

Train dirty… but wipe up your wet spots

If you find yourself in a room full of people wearing very little, grunting, moaning and sweating profusely, either pray you’re in a gym, or be prepared to throw your keys in a bowl and use protection. Apart from a swingers’ club – or the vinyl floors and walls of a very ‘open’ couples’ bedroom – there are very few places as rawly and fleshy as the floor of gym.

Over the past week or two, my gym has become increasingly popular. While I could put this down to my attendance attracting people, that would be just plain wrong. It’s just a small little place, out in the ‘burbs, nestled between apartments, a drive-thru coffee joint and a fast food store. The irony is not lost on me. I go there at night, usually after ten, and usually after everyone else has gone home to bed – perhaps to get sweaty in another way.

But lately there are more people there. Like lots more. What are these people doing at the gym at ten o’clock at night? (And, incidentally, what’s that guy doing wearing a sun-visor in a gym at ten o’clock at night?). Don’t they get that this is my space, my time and I don’t particularly want to share with them?

I’ve always been cool with sharing. I played marbles as a kid and managed to share my tom thumbs and snake eyes with Dean and Eddy and Daniel and Mark – my playground buddies. I’ve lived in a share house. I’ve bought shares. I’ve even listened to Cher. But sharing at the gym… well, that’s different.

When you go to a hotel, you expect that the couple in the room before you had likely used the king-sized bed as their workbench for however long they occupied the room. Likewise the shower, possibly the bathroom vanity, the bedside table, the lounge chair in the corner, the desk with the internet port and, potentially the window sill. You also expect that housekeeping has come along and changed the sheets, wiped down all these surfaces and provided fresh flowers to disguise the smell. Don’t you?

In a gym – while it is hoped people only secrete sweat from their pores, not other fluids from other oriffices – it comes (if you’ll pardon the pun) about as close to a B&D dungeon as a public space can become. So what do people do to mop up their mess once they’ve splashed all over the place? Wipe it with a towel. WTF? You want me to trust that a quick wipe of a bench with your (stinky looking) towel is enough to make me feel comfortable about going to lie in your wet spot? Forget it. No, not even if you’re the hot chick with the butt expertly squeezed in to the virtually see-thru yoga pants. Although…

I am kidding. I think.

I live less than two minutes from my gym. I finish my cool down, pick up my stuff and head straight home to the shower. I haven’t even set foot in the shower at the gym. It looks clean in there, but for showers – just like humans – if you spend a lot of time with a lot of different naked people… you’re likely to be carrying some kind of bug.

Anyway, the only athelete’s foot I want to play tootsies with is one at the very end of a long, tanned leg belonging to a brazilian beach volleyballer.


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6 thoughts on “Train dirty… but wipe up your wet spots

  1. Hilarious. You are very funny…! I usually go to my happy place, put on my fierce face, and remind myself that it will all be over soon…

  2. hiddinsight on said:

    Hilarious! You are funny!! I usually just go to my happy place, put on my “I am so above this” face, and shower when I get home. Running outside poses no sharing conflicts (besides sharing the road, but I suppose that’s a whole ‘nother post!)

    • Gyms are funny. I just report… you decide šŸ˜‰

      • If you think that is funny, you should see a tiny woman (me) kicking the stuffing out of a bodybuilder in my kickboxing class…that would give you something to write about…but, the sweat is still nothing short of gross. One guy hit me so fast the sweat was flying off his body and hitting me…(I almost barfed that day.)

      • I would love to see that! And write about it!

        Some of those bodybuilder dudes take themselves way too seriously. Which is funny, because they clearly can’t see just how ridiculous they look.

      • I know…but at least he’s trying something outside of his element. I thought that was impressive. He actually said, “I can’t hit a woman.” To which I replied, “Well, don’t hit me, hit the bag!” He did okay after that, but I thought he was likely capable of more force…instead of trying not to hit the girl, he just hit LIKE a girl.

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