Tales from the gym

Its been a busy week again. Busy good though, no work for the soul-destroying 'proper' job and lots for Nicsknots so I am a happy Nic. I'm becoming a bit aware that this is getting to be a 'Nicsknots' blog and I can't work out what I want to do about that; do I want a separate blog for that and another for other bits? Who knows. At the moment, variety is the spice of life and i bring you random ramblings from the depths.....

Since Christmas, I have been attempting to go the gym more and I have made it there at least twice a week. Some times, I admit, I don't really stay for long but I'm there, what more do you want ;)

Now, I love people-watching, I would wear sunglasses all year round if it wasn't for all of the comments about me looking like the Mafia or something because it means I can watch people without them seeing me.

Take last night for example, I went to the gym with my sister. We walked in, it was just before 8pm and it was heaving, the place stunk to high heaven and I wanted to turn around and go home until I caught sight of a woman, perched on an exercise bike, hair looking immaculate, not an eyelash out of place or a bead of sweat on her brow, delicately (so that she didn't break a fake nail) leafing through a magazine while pretending to exercise. I went on the only available rowing machine, did a quick 1000m, got up and there she still was, reading away.

Next there was the bloke who is always there, half killing himself. While magazine woman was barley burning a calorie, Mr sweaty was on the cross trainer, leant slightly forward, sweat dripping down his forehead and landing on the control panel of the machine, seeing how fast he could go before either the machine died or he did. I don't know why but its compulsive viewing. Never mind the TVs they have on, playing random programmes, watching Mr Sweaty is better than any reality programme. Several times my sister and I have been concerned that he might just keel over from over-exertion.

After I had had my row, I went and had a play on the exercise bike. I have a kind of aversion to these things; I have a proper bike in the shed, when I ride that, I go places, I see things. At the gym I don't move. I get bored but, in its defence, when I am on my bike and am going up a hill, I'm talking proper Welsh hill rather than the namby pamby ones we have here, instead of carrying on, I just get off and walk (much to Ms annoyance) but when I am doing the X-country program on the exercise bike, when it gets to the hardest resistance, not unlike biking up Everest, I just get on with it, deal with the burn and make it down the other side and judging by how much my arse and thighs hurt when I fall off at the end, it must be doing some good. Anyway, there I was biking up Everest when two girls came in and sat on the bikes next to me, set them to the lowest resistance ever, I'm talking freewheeling down Everest now, and proceed to pedal super-fast while discussing their weddings and how they will be stick-thin in two months after their super workout regimes, you know, the one that they can carry on chatting through-out.

Ahhhh, I love the gym :)

Before I go, look what I listed today on Folksy and MISI. I love the Heather Ross material and it got the highest compliment tonight. M walked into the lounge and told me that he thought that they looked ace!! He never passes comment on my sewing.