Manly men at the gym

When we go to the gym (which I haven’t done even once this week – stupid, considering how cold it’s been), I usually spend 20-25 minutes with dumbbells in the weight room, and then I run away to the boxing side for half an hour or so.  I like to go at lunchtime because the gym is usually fairly empty then.  The boxing side is ALWAYS empty then.  The few times we’ve gone early in the morning, the place has been packed.  There’s a class in the boxing room (but not necessarily a boxing class), there are people running back and forth, and the weight room is full of personal trainers and their trainees.  I feel crowded out.  Hate that.  They’re not unwelcoming, but there are so MANY of them.

Anyway, I prefer to go in the middle of the day.  There are usually no more than a couple to three guys in the weight room, and we all ignore each other.  This one day last week, they got all boisterous, while still totally ignoring me (which is good).  I was flat on my back on a weight bench (chest press, fly, and skull crushers – love the name of that one), eyes focused on the weights and the ceiling, and all I could hear was macho positive reinforcement.  The air was thick with testosterone and “you GOT this” and “YEAH” and “way to go, bro!” (I didn’t make that one up) and “just one more!”  It was…sweet.

Then my arms gave out (with my measly little dumbbells), and I hightailed it to the boxing room so I could beat up on a bag.  Alone.