Chicks at the Gym

Catch a chicken. Hug a chicken. 

No not those kinds of chicks. I'm talking about the ones of the female variety. Actually, I am almost certain that the PC term for those types of girls is Cardio Bunny but I could be wrong.

I enjoy working out because it provides a drug free endorphin rush that temporarily makes me happy and feel unencumbered by the weight of the world. What I don't like is people at the gym. This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone as I don't like other people anywhere. But especially at such a judgmental establishment.

I try to go during the off and weird hours in order to garner that time alone. Why don't I just stay at home? Well, because I feel more motivated because I've driven out of my way to go inside to walk on a stationary terrain and like it or not there are always people there...watching. But no one is as worse as these chicks.

Everything matches. 

They saunter in with everything matching and all put together. Hair is done up. Like with hairspray and whatever else girls do to make their hair look nice. Make up of all things. You can't wear make up. It comes of when you sweat and then you look like someone beat you up in a back alley and the store workers offer to call for help and you have to explain that you forgot to take off your eyeliner. I mean at least that's what I've heard.

But hating people for that. Well that pedantic and completely ridiculous but wait it adds up.

Epic treadmill run

I'm in the back of the gym on the farthest treadmill doing my nice twenty minute interval run before moving on to bigger and nicer things. I have my music in and no one is upstairs for a change so it's great. Then these two girls climb up the stairs. There are several machines to use but they pick two closest to me. I'm annoyed but I can get over it as I'm almost done.

So many options

But then I see their eyes casually dart to my screen. Naturally they are looking at my time and speed. I know some people feel the need to be competitive with whoever but please don't pick me. That's weird. And they speed up past what I'm doing. When I slow down to do my cool down they keep going giving me that smug smile because they are still running.

Seriously though, you haven't been here. You don't know my incline, my resistance. I guarantee you didn't get a good look at my time. Moral of the story: I hate people that wear make-up to the gym.