I hate the gym. This is no secret. But I go because I need to. One thing I do love about going to my gym are the random crazy, crazy people I encounter there. Here, for your reading pleasure, are my favorite characters at the gym.
Crazy Zumba Girl: I think there is probably one of these girls in every Zumba, Step, Body Jam/Pump/Combat class in every city. But I may be wrong. She usually shows up to class with a full face of make-up and hair piled high and hair-sprayed into a vaguely helmet like shape. She is wearing head to toe Zumba gear. She is not the instructor. She yells energetically at odd points in songs. She improvises some of her own moves, including adding spins, twirls and, most importantly, spirit fingers. In some respects I wish I was like her. She dances in class like she doesn't have a care in the world, and yet somehow doesn't sweat. I sweat in the warm up songs. She makes class more interesting. When I am ready to drop from exhaustion, I just think 'hey, the crazy Zumba girl probably spent an hour doing her hair and make-up before coming to class and she is still going, all you did is roll out of bed, so you can do it too."
Crazy Walking Dude: This is my favorite of the guys at my gym. He always comes wearing khaki cargo shorts and black socks pulled up to his knees, and a random band t-shirt. All I have ever seen him do is walk on the tread mill. But the most interesting thing about him is the way he walks on the treadmill. He starts off at a slow pace (maybe 2.5mph) and he takes huge strides, lifting his knee almost to his chin as he takes a step. He pumps his arms in really wide sweeping motion, almost like he is going to lose control of them and they will start spinning in circles at any moment. Then just when you think he can't be any weirder, he turns around and skips backwards on the treadmill. Don't ask me how he is able to do this, I can barely run forwards without tripping over my own feet. And this whole time he has the biggest smile on his face. He kinda reminds me of a tiny Charlie Chaplin.
Ballet Guy: I love this guy. I get so excited when I get to the gym and he walks in after me. He does an entire 30 minute ballet stretching routine right in front of his treadmill. We are talking plies, extensions, and arabesques. It would be quite beautiful if he didn't wear holey yoga pants and tie dyed t-shirts everyday. Then after his thirty minutes of stretches he does exactly 10 minutes of jazz running on the treadmill. Then another ten minutes of stretching and then he leaves. Awesome.
The Diva: I will never understand this woman. And there are actually a lot of them at my gym. She comes in wearing full make-up, hair blown into a perfect do, huge shiny jewelry on every ear, finger, neck and wrist available. It must take a feat of strength I will never possess to just walk into the gym being weighed down by all the bling she has on. And then she proceeds to do nothing but sashay on the treadmill. That is the only way I can describe it. It looks like she is modeling the highest fashions in Paris, not sporting yoga pants and a tank top (admittedly they are probably the highest priced yoga pants available). Then another diva will walk up, and they will both stop and gossip for most of my workout. Someday I am going to turn off my music and just try and eavesdrop on their conversations. Then after they have talked for a while, she will start her treadmill back up and sashay for a few more minutes before calling it a day.
In addition to the characters I just described I am also a big fan of: daisy dukes girl, denim guy, the super muscle bound roid ragin' guys in the weight room, and the reason why I try and avoid the locker room if I can help it) the old ladies who walk around the locker room butt naked.
I hope there is not some other blogger out there somewhere writing about the gross sweaty, overweight girl in the cupcake t-shirt stumbling along on the treadmill. I mean really who does she think she is fooling?