I Didn't Sign Up For Gymboree

I took a risk by going directly to the gym from work. It's really hit or miss-- sometimes it's packed with the highly motivated after work crowd and other times it's almost empty. Unfortunately, last night it was busy. But I was lucky to score an elliptical and since I had forgotten my earphones for my iPod, (I know, I can manage to bring all my work out clothes and sneakers and the actually iPod to work but forget the earphones...) I grabbed an easy to read while you're running Star Magazine.

The good thing about my gym is that they have lots of new equipment and the price is right. The bad thing is that they also have a basketball court and after school activities that attract kids. Mostly kids between the ages of eight and 15. And I guess because they think it's cool they come into the gym when they're finished. Maybe it's because I'm usually plugged into my iPod, but I never really noticed them until last night. This time I couldn't miss them.

First there were the two girls on ellipticals. They must have been around 14 and after a few minutes one became bored. "Mia! Mia! Miiiiia! MIA!" I turned my head to see one of the girls yelling to the other, who couldn't hear her because she was smart enough to remember her earphones. Probably because she was well aware that her gym partner was the type of girl that frantically waved her hand in the air, "ooh, ooh, oohing" whenever the teacher asked a question. So annoying.

"MIA!!! I'm BORED!" Seriously, I almost threw my water bottle at her. Finally Mia heard her and lifted one earphone long enough to tell her friend to find another machine if she was so bored. Go Mia!

With 10 minutes left to go on the machine I spotted Gold Digger on a bike. Oh no! I had to get to the weights before he did. The image of is finger lost inside his navel cavity began to haunt me. No, no, no! Look away!

I looked ahead and noticed a woman with a girl who could not have been more than eight. The little girl was on the treadmill and the woman was encouraging her to run. The girl was only a little heavy and I felt bad for her. Wouldn't it be better for someone of her age to take dance classes or play soccer or even take walks with her mom? Must she already be told that she's heavy and be put in a gym?

I headed over to the weight machines and was bombarded by a group of twelve-year old boys. I know they were twelve because one of them was talking about his last birthday. These scrawny little boys in their over sized basketball shorts with their hair spike just so, jumped from machine to machine, acting tough and grunting as they moved the weights. It took all I had not to crash into them as they rapidly switched places with each other.

I finished up and realized how tired I was. I know you're supposed to be physically tired after working out, but mentally? No.

Damn kids.