Ah yes, cold weather is upon us, and today with the end of daylight savings time, many of us will be forced to find some other modes of entertainment besides those of the two-wheeled variety. Clearly none of us will simply hang our bikes up to collect dust over the winter, but for the working man, there will be much time to fill and energy to expend between blinkie light rides at West Creek and weekend rides with the Mafia. I am talking, of course, about cross-training. Cross-training comes in many varieties. For some, it means dabbling in the multi-sport lifestyle of running and swimming. For some, it means something of the Nordic variety like cross-country skiing, snow-shoeing, or in Chris Harvie’s case: ice dancing. For some, it means taking up the sport of competitive eating. And for some, it means taking a trip to your friendly neighborhood gymnasium for some titillating exposure to the mass of humanity that frequents such a place. While I am mixing it up a bit this off season with some running, swimming, competitive cheerleading, and jousting; I am also hitting the gym a bit more, and I am here to introduce you to my gym… one miserable nimrod at a time. So come on in, it’s warm inside, and there’s fresh beef jerky for all!
There are many different types of people who frequent the gym, but let’s start with the main infrastructure: management. Most modern gyms offer all sorts of classes and personal training “experiences” via their friendly and knowledgeable staff. Here we will examine the rare species known as Spin Class Instructor. Spin class, for those of you who don’t know, is essentially an hour or so spent in a dark room with no windows or ventilation with about 30 other sweat-drenched people listening to techno music. So kind of like those discotheques Joe used to go to before he settled down. As I said before, the class is built around the music. The instructor tells you things like, “You should be pedaling with the beat!” which is ironic considering the instructor usually has all the rhythm of a baseboard heater.
Also, “You should not be bouncing in your seat. If you are, you need more resistance!” Meanwhile, Spin Class Instructor’s head just poked a hole in the drop ceiling as a direct result of all the bouncing in the saddle that’s going on.
Moving on from the spin class room to the weight room, let’s take a look at Weight Room Guy. Weight Room Guy is ALWAYS at the gym, no matter what time or what day you go. He can be identified by his gallon jug-o-water that he totes around. Weight Room Guy doesn’t have time for your sissified 32 oz. water bottles, he’s here on business. Weight Room Guy does not travel alone. He brings his friend with him for support. They yell at each other, things like, “If the bar ain’t bendin’, you’re just pretendin’!” or “If you can’t hack it, rack it.” Or this…
Weight Room Guy doesn’t waste time doing sets of 10 or more… Weight Room Guy warms up with 6 sets of 4 and then bangs out 4 sets of 1.
Weight Room Guy doesn’t own shirts with sleeves, but he DOES own bedazzled jeans for leisure wear. Sometimes Weight Room Guy gets on a treadmill, albeit with a weighted vest or backpack on. If you see this happen, approach slowly and point him in the right direction… he’s lost.
Let’s steer this ship now towards the yoga studio where we will find Yoga Guy. To the naked eye and nose, Yoga Guy might seem like a homeless person, but this is merely a defense mechanism to keep Weight Room Guy from asking him for a spot. Some key traits to look for in Yoga Guy are a neck beard, cut off sweat pants with mustard stains on them, and a t-shirt from when the Dead played at RFK Stadium in ’95. Don’t make the mistake of asking Yoga Guy about his shirt, or you will be hypnotized by his droning voice telling the story of how “these 3 dudes got struck by lightning… It was sooo trippppy!” This is another defense mechanism… avoid at all costs. Yoga guy is not above farting in front of people while deep in the throes of a downward dog. He is releasing toxins before he goes back home to his mom’s basement to drink a liter of Pepsi and eat a bag of Cheetos while playing video games for the rest of the day. Yoga Guy is unemployed.
Now we’ll step outside for some fresh air only to find… the opposite. This can mean only one thing: It’s Smokes After Working Out Guy. Smokes After Working Out Guy doesn’t chase that superset with a protein shake, he gets his recovery from his cigs. He can’t even wait to get to his car to light up, he has to do it right in front of the gym. Smokes After Working Out Guy is dedicated to his craft. He works hard, he plays hard, and he has a hard time making it up a flight of stairs without weezing. Let’s go back inside.
A last lap around the gym reveals one more species: Cross Training Cyclist Guy. He warms up in spin class where he makes angry faces while sprinting, gives people “The Look” during climbing and attack portions, complains about the bike not being the proper fit, rolls his eyes at things Spin Class Instructor says, and then writes about class in a blog for all his cycling friends. Then, Cross Training Cyclist Guy makes his way past Yoga Guy to the weight room. Since the bones in his arms have the density of a chocolate covered malt ball, and the muscles surrounding them aren’t much better, he heads first to the bench press to shore up his weakness. After loading up the bar with the smallest amount of weight possible, he struggles through a few sets while Weight Room Guy decides whether he should feast on this sickly creature, or just leave him be. Cyclist Guy then moves about the weight room like a lost child, pondering the strange equipment and creatures that fill it. After several minutes of poking and prodding machines then jumping back like the monkeys at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey, he retreats home to his gels, his lycra, and his computer where he can blog all about it to his cycling friends.
See you guys on the road.
Sincerely,
Cross Training Cyclist Guy
