Insanity is a dish best served microwaved

Everytime I write about this, I get grief.   But you know what?  It bugs me, so I’m going to write about it.

Out of shape people.

Notice I didn’t call them FAT people.  No, that would be mean.  They aren’t FAT people–they are just out of shape people and yet again, they are fucking up my universe.

I work out a pretty swanky club in Chico.  The reason why I chose this club as I have mentioned in earlier blogs is because it was across the street from my old apartment.  By the time I bought my house, it was an easy bike ride.   So I stayed.  I enjoy it because it’s the best in town and it mostly made of people that maintain their health pretty well.

And then we have our “special” groups…

My club started this biggest loser competition this month apparently.  The club also just completed a new personal training section a few months ago.  Now this biggest loser competition isn’t free–it’s something these “out of shape” people paid extra to do with a personal trainer.  I’m all for finding ways to get in shape–just as long as it’s not grasing on my grass.  Yesterday, I was enjoying a relaxing workout in a part of the gym that is usually good for not being as crowded.  I don’t like being in near proximity to people… I have a bubble and you best be backing up out of it.  Well when I turned around, I was surrounded by a gaggle of “out of shape” people.

Here’s my beef… you are paying extra to use the new section of the gym.  Stay the fuck over there.  Don’t come out to the common areas which we all have to share and expect us to wait as you do a circuit training that keeps six or seven pieces of equipment tied up for a half an hour.  I already have to compete with old people that take forever and frat boys that just like to show off to other guys.  I don’t need the gaggle messing me up any more.

I don’t want to seem mean.. but I guess I am.  So, I wish them the best of luck… just from a distance in their own room.