So last night as part of my new years resolve, I went to the gym. They have one at my office that's free for employees. I like it because unlike most other employee gyms companies have tried to sell me on -- this one actually has a really nice assortment of working equipment and perhaps best of all, if you go at the right time you can almost totally be assured that you'll usually be the only one there.
I don't mind working out with other people around, but I generally seem to get more done when I'm on my own. Perhaps when I get closer to the place I want to be fitness-wise having a little unofficial competition to my left and right could be a good thing, but right now being able to find my pace without worrying how it looks to the skinnier people all around is actually pretty nice.
So I get to the place, slide my keycard through the slot in the door, and step inside. The lights were on, so I was pretty sure someone else was inside -- maybe working a treadmill or doing a few sets with the weights, certainly nothing I couldn't work around, right?
What I found though was a friend of mine who works in the distribution center, leaned back in a chair in the middle of the floor, EATING A PIZZA, and watching re-runs of Yo Mamma on MTV.
A whole pizza, by himself -- apparently delivered to the gym by Pizza Hut (a delivery by the way that I can only imagine has to rank among the best ever pizza calls you could make -- "Yo just bring that large extra cheese to the gym. Imma eat it in there.")
The whole room smelled of it, an aroma I usually adore -- but here I am, on the treadmill, trying to pretend that it's not there because, you know I'm trying to be all healthy and shit now while friggin' Wilmer Valderrama sits there seemingly in judgment of me from his seat on high on the TV screen.
I don't mind working out with other people around, but I generally seem to get more done when I'm on my own. Perhaps when I get closer to the place I want to be fitness-wise having a little unofficial competition to my left and right could be a good thing, but right now being able to find my pace without worrying how it looks to the skinnier people all around is actually pretty nice.
So I get to the place, slide my keycard through the slot in the door, and step inside. The lights were on, so I was pretty sure someone else was inside -- maybe working a treadmill or doing a few sets with the weights, certainly nothing I couldn't work around, right?
What I found though was a friend of mine who works in the distribution center, leaned back in a chair in the middle of the floor, EATING A PIZZA, and watching re-runs of Yo Mamma on MTV.A whole pizza, by himself -- apparently delivered to the gym by Pizza Hut (a delivery by the way that I can only imagine has to rank among the best ever pizza calls you could make -- "Yo just bring that large extra cheese to the gym. Imma eat it in there.")
The whole room smelled of it, an aroma I usually adore -- but here I am, on the treadmill, trying to pretend that it's not there because, you know I'm trying to be all healthy and shit now while friggin' Wilmer Valderrama sits there seemingly in judgment of me from his seat on high on the TV screen.
And you want to know the best part?Every time he finished a slice, dude would walk over
to one of the triceps machines, do 4 or 5 half-hearted
reps, go back and get another slice, and sit back down.
[Listening to: American Head Charge - "Dirty" ]
Comments
This fool had a pizza in the gym? For serious?
I am so done!
Good luck with the workouts Hex.
I think we might be confused about the purpose of a fucking gym.