Silent But Deadly

I haven't missed a day of running yet. I came close yesterday because Sundays are hectic at work. I have to go in early (which means 9:00) and I'm usually in the office until dusk. That means that in order to get my daily run in, I would have to wake up at least an hour and a half earlier to have enough time. Because I didn't get home on Saturday night from work until about 1:15 in the morning, I wasn't about to set my alarm for any earlier than I had to.

By the time I got home yesterday, I had just enough time to change my clothes and hit the nearby trail, do my jog to the rest stop, do my ten chin-ups, and run back before it became completely dark. There were a few times while running under the canopy of trees that it was pretty difficult to see, but I still made it back.

Today was different. Because my friends took the liberty of throwing a "Brandon Roesler Blow-Out" last night in honor of me leaving on Thursday, I didn't get home until about 3:00 am; and I wasn't sober. Waking up seven hours after a strong screwdriver, three gin and tonics, a tequila(?) shot, and a splash of Jameson whiskey to the face doesn't exactly cause one to want to get up and run.

So after a Taco Bell Supreme Burrito, a hard shell taco, seven-layer nachos, two slices of five-free-topping Papa John's pizza and a day sitting in front of a computer screen, I felt pretty obligated to run. Because I didn't actually get off work until about 10:45 pm, I had to run on the treadmill in the "Health Club" of the Barkley Village Apartments.

The Health Club includes a few free weights looking into wide-as-the-room floor to ceiling mirror, the first-ever electric treadmill in the corner facing the center of the room, and a few machines that look like medieval torture apparatuses.

I was the only one in there and it was 11:00 pm so I figured it would be safe to take my shirt off. I put my headphones on, turned on Muse's latest album and started my jog. Because I always run on the trail and I don't wear a watch, I don't know how long I usually run for or how far I go so I wasn't sure how long to run on the treadmill. I figured it was at least twenty minutes so that was my first goal.

About fifteen minutes into my run a tall, thick (not muscular, but not obese) guy walked in. We never made eye contact and after two minutes of being in the same room without talking, we had passed that point in which it would be polite to exchange greetings. Any sign of acknowledgment from that point on would just be awkward. This is what I hate about these fitness rooms that apartments and hotels have. Everything is fine and dandy until someone else comes in. Then everything becomes extremely uncomfortable.

Now I don't know how true it is that after a night of heavy drinking, the alcohol can me smelled through your pores the next day, but if that's the case, his olfactory receptors were treated to an all-you-can-small buffet of stench. He probably could tell exactly what kind of gin the bartender was pouring or that the screwdriver that was made for me before we left last night was made with Skyy vodka.

I wasn't about to stop my run just to put my shirt on, so I kept going while he came in and did a few repetitions at the bench press. In between each set, he would sit there awkwardly looking at his feet. He couldn't look up because I was running directly at him. I couldn't necessarily look in a different direction so he had to pretend to be exceptionally interested in his shoe laces.

During one of his sets, his iPod fell off of his lap and on to the floor leaving his headphones hanging uselessly from his ears. Because of the position of the treadmill, he knew I saw the whole thing, so he kept going like nothing happened.

From the bench press, he went to the mirror and the free weights and did some arm extensions - ten repetitions with fifteen pound dumbbells to be exact. Doing one set must have made him pretty hot and because the guy on the treadmill didn't have a shirt on, why couldn't he take his off as well? Not what I wanted to be forced to look at.

Once I hit twenty minutes on the treadmill, I was feeling pretty good so I decided to stay on for an hour or until the Muse album ended; which ever came first. Plus, I wanted to still be running when he decided to leave so he would always wonder how long I was actually jogging before and after he had left.

My new friend did a few more pointless workouts interspersed with meandering around like a big oaf before weighing himself on the scale and headed home. He was probably in there for about thirty to forty-five minutes and not once did we make eye contact or exchange one word.

I wonder if he had any idea that I was judging his complete lack of a legitimate work out regime. Maybe he was just as disgusted to see a hairy-chested pasty white guy drenched in sweat as I was to see him without a shirt on and doing curls directly in front of me. Either way, it was an uncomfortable situation that I will remember the next time I decide to put off running on the trail in the daylight.