There isn’t a thing on this girl that isn’t coordinated: shoes, socks, pants, tank, headband. She appears to have stepped right out of a catalog and is using the treadmill as a neverending fashion runway. Even her iPod cover matches her outfit. Bonus points for the following colors: hot pink, purple, teal. Double bonus if her outfit is all branded with Victoria Secret’s PINK logo. Triple-super-duper-all-the-way-across-the-sky-rainbow bonus if her outfit is velour.
The restrictions on cell phone use at gyms were not invented for this lady, but they should have been. She walks into the gym on her phone and tells her caller “I gotta go, at the gym! Gonna work on my fitness!” But before she gets to the locker room, her fingers are already burning 10 calories a minute texting. The phone rings while she’s in the locker room, she looks around apologetically and then answers anyway. Inevitably, she slinks onto the treadmill right. next. to. you. and starts making phone calls. No matter how fast you run, you can’t get away. You spend the next 30-60 minutes listening to “OH NO! She didn’t?!”, “Are you for reeealz?”, and “You’re never gonna believed what happened to me! [Insert a first-world problem here, like… the restaurant accidentally made your farm fresh omelet with the whole egg when you asked for egg whites only.]”
She’s sneaky. Moving with a flow and grace, you can’t hear her behind you. Or maybe that’s because she goes barefoot everywhere in the gym. She’s not like the other ladies at the gym; she’s a nouveau hippie and doesn’t like the negative ions the equipment puts into her aura. Also, she is dressed/groomed remarkably different. She’s got tight yoga tights on and a loose, drapy tank top with the ohm symbol on it. She may or may not be wearing a bra. She overuses the word ‘namaste’ and spends the bulk of her time at the gym standing on one leg or her head.
Watch out for this lady speeding by at 40 rpm on the elliptical! She’s turning pages faster than her body is moving. At first glance, you may take in the sweatpants-wearing bookworm and think what a worthless workout she is probably getting. But then it dawns on you: this woman probably left her husband at home with a sports game on and has her 2.5 kids in the child care center. This blessed hour is the only hour she can read about Bo and Diane’s forbidden love without snorts, toots, bloody noses, broken toys, and dirty dishes. Read on, sister. Read on.
Miss Stairway to Heaven
Most gyms have a gazillion treadmills and ellipticals. Then a handful of stationary bikes. And a spattering of row machines. And then somewhere, in a corner or the very last row of the cardio studio, are the stair climbers. These machines roll out actual stairs, about 6 at a time, and you can run up those at breakneck speeds, if you want. The stair climber is surprisingly difficult and gets your heart rate movin’ in 2.8 seconds or less. Perched atop the stair climbers, is the fittest woman in the gym. She climbs those steps for an hour or more and even has a routine: Step, step, high knee! Step, step, kick back! Step, step, high knee! Step, step, kick back! 30 second sprint! She is a machine. A machine with the world’s roundest, perkiest butt.