Exercising discretion
Since Leslie started working at UNC-Greensboro a few weeks ago, we've been spending more time on a big public university campus than I have since my own graduation. UNCG is a bit smaller than my alma mater UCSD, but reminiscent in what seems now in hindsight to be the singular characteristic of the State School Campus, a lack of parking. We get most of our workout walking from wherever we can find a parking spot to the gym.
Even though UNCG is smaller it has a nicer gym than I recall UCSD having, though now that I think about it that's probably because I just never went to the gym at UCSD. There are multiple cardio rooms, good weight equipment, indoor courts and running tracks and even a climbing wall that looks like it would be lots of fun for the kind of person who would think a climbing wall would be lots of fun and not just a tower of embarrassment.
Probably the most distinctive characteristic of this particular facility is somewhat disturbing, though. Well, not really disturbing so much as nerve-wracking. The last gym I belonged to was right across the street from my office in downtown Greensboro. You know how some gyms are nothing more than big meet-markets? Not that one - the hottest girl there was named Frank. But I certainly didn't care, being a happily married man. Really, the only thing that bothered me there was that they always played Fox News on the TV.
There's no Fox News at the UNCG gym, but sadly, the place is crawling with half-naked coeds. Seriously, they're everywhere! Now, again, I'm a rock and such temptations of the flesh bounce off me like bullets off Superman. The problem is, when you're on the elliptical machine right next to your wife, where exactly is The Good Husband supposed to fix his vision? Under most circumstances when a young woman walks by that might, in a certain light, tempt the weak-willed into an inappropriate and ire-raising ogle, The Good Husband simply looks quickly in the other direction. But if there are two more in the other direction and a whole squad of them rounding the corner on their way to CardioLapDance class or wherever, what exactly can one do? In this particular gym you can't even look up safely, because there's kind of an overhanging balcony with exercise bikes positioned, seemingly deliberately, for maximum indiscrete displays of that kind that one might otherwise have to put mirrors on one's shoes in the subway to achieve.
Fortunately, Leslie isn't the overly sensitive type but I still like to try to be be considerate. I don't read while I exercise any more (in the interest of actually getting some exercise), so I've devised a new alternative visual diversion. I can report to you now that the particular Nikes I wear in the gym each have 32 small holes in the leather uppers, with a total of 10 eyelets on each shoe for the laces, and I can further report that it takes exactly 45 minutes to count them all when your feet are moving rapidly in ellipses. Tomorrow, I should be able to provide an update on the number of hairs I have between my wrist and my elbow.
Even though UNCG is smaller it has a nicer gym than I recall UCSD having, though now that I think about it that's probably because I just never went to the gym at UCSD. There are multiple cardio rooms, good weight equipment, indoor courts and running tracks and even a climbing wall that looks like it would be lots of fun for the kind of person who would think a climbing wall would be lots of fun and not just a tower of embarrassment.
Probably the most distinctive characteristic of this particular facility is somewhat disturbing, though. Well, not really disturbing so much as nerve-wracking. The last gym I belonged to was right across the street from my office in downtown Greensboro. You know how some gyms are nothing more than big meet-markets? Not that one - the hottest girl there was named Frank. But I certainly didn't care, being a happily married man. Really, the only thing that bothered me there was that they always played Fox News on the TV.
There's no Fox News at the UNCG gym, but sadly, the place is crawling with half-naked coeds. Seriously, they're everywhere! Now, again, I'm a rock and such temptations of the flesh bounce off me like bullets off Superman. The problem is, when you're on the elliptical machine right next to your wife, where exactly is The Good Husband supposed to fix his vision? Under most circumstances when a young woman walks by that might, in a certain light, tempt the weak-willed into an inappropriate and ire-raising ogle, The Good Husband simply looks quickly in the other direction. But if there are two more in the other direction and a whole squad of them rounding the corner on their way to CardioLapDance class or wherever, what exactly can one do? In this particular gym you can't even look up safely, because there's kind of an overhanging balcony with exercise bikes positioned, seemingly deliberately, for maximum indiscrete displays of that kind that one might otherwise have to put mirrors on one's shoes in the subway to achieve.
Fortunately, Leslie isn't the overly sensitive type but I still like to try to be be considerate. I don't read while I exercise any more (in the interest of actually getting some exercise), so I've devised a new alternative visual diversion. I can report to you now that the particular Nikes I wear in the gym each have 32 small holes in the leather uppers, with a total of 10 eyelets on each shoe for the laces, and I can further report that it takes exactly 45 minutes to count them all when your feet are moving rapidly in ellipses. Tomorrow, I should be able to provide an update on the number of hairs I have between my wrist and my elbow.
posted by Matt | 9:49 PM
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