For once in your life, learn from your mistakes. Next time you feel a sneeze coming on… Put. The. Coffee. Down.
I’m revamping the blog and making some changes so if anything breaks please bear with me.
Some older content will reappear as I rejig things.
Hold on tight!
It’s been a couple of weeks since I started going to the gym again. I am less whinny about it now. Yes, almost. I have come to terms with the fact that some people will smell and that some guys are committed to the whole ‘if you love your balls set them free’ thing. I have also accepted that gyms are not clean places, that you will be in contact with other people’s sweat, and your sense of smell will be violated by the B.O. of the stubbornly unwashed.
I found the following graph to be fairly accurate so far. (click to embiggen)
I have seen only a tiny improvement in my fitness because it is still early days but I wish I could see results faster so it doesn’t feel like I’m wasting my time. Well, I’m a Generation Y-er so the instant gratification expectations are almost assumed here. However, I’m trying to take advantage of this by trying harder. I just want to see at least a small change before the thoughts of giving up start creeping in.
It’s not meant to be easy, I get it. So I will continue to be a constantly sore wreck, standing in front of the internets, asking you to keep encouraging me.
Someone rings the bell. Since the intercom isn’t working I figure I’d better go downstairs to open the door myself because I’d rather not just let anyone in the building. As I make my way to the floor below I see a guy leaning against the wall. No, not creepy, not creepy at all but against my better judgement I decide to keep walking towards him.
He sees me and smiles. No, not creepy, VERY creepy but I’ve made it this far so I might as well go all the way and face my fears. I am now standing right in front of him and ask: “Did you just ring the bell?”
He responds by offering to shake my hand and says “Merry Christmas!”
It’s not Christmas yet but why the hell not, so I reach to shake his hand. He squeezes and I’m glad neither of us is wearing any rings on our fingers as they’d be ruined at this point or permanently embedded to my bones.
I take my hand back and ask again “Did you just ring the bell?” to which he responds with “I’m from Africa!”. He offers another handshake which I take as a request for approval or a nice-to-meet-you kind of a deal so I go for it. He turns my hand into a throbbing mash and I take back the remains. By that point I am lost for words and there’s a second where I am just looking at him inquisitively. He goes “Awwww give me a hug!”
I have no way to defend myself so the only thing I can think of is to not anger the hand-squashing daemon and to play along. Either way, he grabs me and squeezes tightly. I get a little dizzy from the distillery smell emanating from each and every one of his pores and as he lets go he asks “Do you smoke?”
Now, I can see what’s going on. He’s just a drunk neighbour. I say yes and he responds with “Aaaah, disgusting habit”. So I decide to have a little fun of my own and say “and the worst thing is that I also bite my nails, quite the bad combo” as if drinking like there’s no tomorrow on a school night is a noble pastime.
He tries to unlock the door to his apartment using his key chain and not one of the keys. He offers another handshake, this time with his left hand and I think to myself that this is his weaker hand and a good opportunity to end the madness. He turns my other hand to jam before I have the chance to take it back. I ask him one last time if it was him who rang the bell and he smiles and nods “yes”. I start to back away, “that’s okay”, “have a good night”.
Next time Proud Mary comes on at the gym, get off the elliptical machine. Collapsing on the floor trying to catch your breath while looking for your legs is not a pretty sight. It was a close call today. How many of those do you think you’ll get?!