"This is like the Costco of gyms..."
Seriously people, it's kind of a warehouse-looking building, with an immense interior. The ceilings are very high (like Costco) and you can find a way to work out every muscle in your body (kind of like Costco?). This wide-open space is filled with about one hundred treadmills, fifty ellipticals, more weights than I care to count, weightlifting equipment that look similar to torture devices seen on science fiction shows, and approximately two hundred STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL human beings that don't look quite real. Of course, there are normal looking people too, but, those aren't the ones that I found myself staring at, slack jawed and drooling. One word, ladies: arms. I apparently have a thing for sculpted arms.
On the edges of this large, intimidating space are rooms for yoga, swimming, basketball, racquet ball, work-out classes, spin classes, and, get this, a movie theater filled with treadmills and ellipticals instead of seats (that was one of the major selling points for me). I mean, this place has got it all. Second thought...
"I have just walked into Globo Gym."
|Please watch "Dodgeball" if you don't know what I mean.|
After I got through the membership sprint, I decided to actually exercise. I had about thirty minutes before my yoga class began, so I decided to warm up. Thus begins my segment I have entitled:
"Tilting on Treadmills"
Please remember throughout this story that I have used a treadmill before and that I am surrounded by beautiful, sweaty people in skimpy, skin-tight outfits, while I am wearing what look like old pajamas. I chose a nice treadmill that can lift or descend to create the sensation of walking on a hill. "Alright," I thought, "let's get this party started!"
Well, some people may think that what happened next could be a joke told at a party...
After making the mistake of holding down the "increase speed" button, not aware it would jump from 1.5 to 15 in a matter of 1.5 seconds, I ended up suddenly sprinting. This was such a shock I flailed my arms about and knocked the emergency stop key from it's place of safety, proceeding to fly into the machine as it came to a complete stop that my sprinting body was not prepared for. I looked about as graceful as an epileptic baby giraffe- in sweats no less.
I then decided to shake it off, ignore the fact that I was surrounded by perfectly balanced people who could be models, straight from some magazine, in row after intimidating row of running machines of torture and take my darn warm-up walk, gosh darn it.
20 minutes pass. All was well until I had to be the good citizen and wipe down the machine- a machine that has an i-pad for controls (yes, this gym is fancy). As I did what any responsible gym goer would do, I was unaware that the i-pad was sensitive enough to register the wipe of a towel.
It started. While I was turned to step off the machine.
I realized too late that I was moving (that light-bulb went off when I saw the wall shifting to my right), and as I tumbled off this apparatus of evil into the treadmill behind me- complete with beautiful person in leotard- I realized the true beauty of walking outside is not nature, it's that there's less of a chance of being seen when you fall on your face.
Yes, I did go back the very next day (I know, glutton for punishment, right?), but at a different time, so that regular gym goers would not have a chance to recognize me. I also chose a treadmill in the back.