So, you know that moment where the dude at the gym offers you his water bottle?
Yeah, I didn’t either.
I’m running on the treadmill. It’s going terribly…I need to run more. Lots more.
So I’m running and sweating a lot. Normally I would sweat sitting on a polar ice-cap, so you can imagine what it might mean for me to be running and sweating.
It’s a lot.
It’s like running next to a water fountain no one would want to drink from.
Because of this, I usually try to pick a treadmill with no one on the left or right. I’d hate to get people wet with sweat flinging from my elbows.
Yes, my elbows sweat. Don’t yours?
I also try to find the solitary treadmill because I don’t like talking to people at the gym. I talk to people all the time. It’s my life. Hence, I try not to do it at the gym. To give my inner I a break.
But yesterday there were no lone treadmills, and so I had to squeeze in between a very pleasant looking woman walking her butt off at an incline setting that was probably called “Everest,” and the muscle-bound dude in the black tank-top who had hair like Rick James.
Ok, it wasn’t exactly like Rick James. It wasn’t very long, but cropped all up on his head as if Rick James’ hair had suddenly retracted into a flop.
And that’s the culprit: the dude with the Rick James flop crop.
After about 17 minutes I’m tired as all get out and sweating badly. And all of a sudden, in my line of sight, a water bottle appears.
It’s not mine.
It happened so quickly and strangely that I didn’t know what was going on, and therefore didn’t do anything. It was like a mirage, an oasis in YMCA treadmill Hell.
But then it appeared again after another minute…minute 18.
By minute 20 I was fit to be tied. That’s so sad, but true. And the water bottle made another appearance. And I think I was in some sort of a daze, dehydration or apoplexy, because I reached out and grabbed it.
And then, as I was holding it in my hand, I thought to myself “What kind of a person passes a water bottle to a complete stranger at the YMCA?”
That question didn’t haunt me as much as the next one that popped into my mind, “And what kind of person accepts it?!”
Turns out Rick James’ crop flop wasn’t offering me his water bottle. He was, in fact, throwing punches to the left and the right as he ran while holding his water bottle.
You know, as we do when we have muscles.
Still running, I turned to the side and said to him, “Uhm…I think this is yours.”
He looked over at me with this stunned, bewildered look.
I don’t blame him.
He took back his water bottle and said, “I guess you can have a drink if you want one.”
I just shook my head and kept running.
No thanks, man…life is strange enough without that experience.
I lasted another five minutes before jumping off of there. That was quite enough for one day.