Thursday, December 06, 2007

To Join is To Join

Last night, Meg and I were going to run three or four miles in the neighborhood. It was a bad idea. Estimated temperature: -4 billion degrees. Treacherous running conditions included sidewalks that business owners hadn't bothered to toss a handful of salt on, much less shovel. I feared breaking my neck, or worse… my face. So, Meg and I, in need of some catching up time, decided to go on a 40 or so minute walk instead.

Sadly, this idea was also ill-fated.

By the time we parted ways, my thighs felt as though they would shatter if tapped with a small mallet. That's right, go ahead, hit my so-cold-they-sting-legs with a hammer; we'll see what happens.

This prompted me to say, "Meg, I should just join your gym, then we can work out together, but we don't have to run in this crap." Of course, she thought it was a grand idea (who doesn't want to work out with Lou?). And considering that I've been pissed off at my gym about the amount of money I pay a month to be a member, I have started to think it might be a good idea.

I realize I get on this "I must switch gyms" kick every couple of months. My gym, we’ll refer to it here as Gym A, is solid, but over-priced. Meg’s Gym, Gym B, is (according to Yelp) not over-priced, but over-crowded, and apparently (according to Yelp) often experiences a shortage of towels (I use approximately one to four towels per gym visit -- go ahead judge me -- so this is unfortunate). And Gym B just also happens to be MM’s gym, which makes me feel weird about the whole thing – similar to how I felt a year and a half ago when I told @ I was probably going to join Gym A, which she had been a member of for several months.

“Uh… so I’m thinking about joining your gym… not that I’m following you there or anything… uh… we don’t have to work out together… I just thought I should probably tell you…”

Or something like that.

Here’s the problem. My life revolves around a straight line drawn from where I live to where I work. I prefer that every place I go, every thing I do, be either clustered around where I live or where I work or (OR!) directly adjacent to the line between the two. Blame it on not driving. Blame it on Chicago’s sometimes dicey transit system that makes multiple stops and transfers nightmarish. Blame it on my laziness.

Anyway, Gym A is near my work. Gym B is adjacent to the line.

Maybe wanting to change gyms right now is akin to last Saturday night before I went to the bar when I picked up scissors and for a second (a second!) I entertained the idea of cutting bangs right then and there. A sign of restlessness, perhaps? Something we can blame on ‘tis the season?

I’m all about blame lately.


@ said...

You may decide quit the gym of perpetual branding, but you cannot quit me.

L Sass said...

Heh. NYC has pretty crappy gym choices, therefore I pay way too much money for a pretty crappy gym! Here's hoping that you find your workout soul mate.