Muscles

The squirrels in LA are huge. I'm talking as large as the sky rats pigeons that roam the skies streets of Chicago. But they leer. Like, stare you down because they're stealing your soul kind of leering. And today I saw two of them doing it. Gross.

Not at all the point of this entry, but something I felt I should share. Not the kind of pool-side porn I was expecting to see here in LA, but OK.

To the point:

Today I worked out in my apartment. I could have walked down to the gym by the pool, but then I might've risked seeing more squirrel sex, and I was already plenty traumatized from the first go round, so I did burpees and various other things without burning my retinas with rodent coitus.

I am what Jillian Michaels would call skinny fat. I give the illusion that I am skinny (I'm not saying I'm not) but I am also out of shape. But yay for me, because I've kicked my own ass into getting fit.

Woot!
Feel the burn!
Six pack bikini bod!

Right.

I am not writing so you can give me a virtual high five for somehow finding the gumption to get off my butt and get fit, no no, I write because I was shamed. In public. Which is probably the real reason behind me working out in my house and not my perfectly useful little gym.

Last Friday I went down to the gym. I did the elliptical for 30 minutes, then started doing some weights.  Right as I'm starting the weight machine, this precious old man walks in, probably around 80 ish, wearing dockers, a white tee shirt and a Dodgers cap. I'm like 'awww, he's working it out, good for him!' and I proceed to listen to whatever ridiculously inspiring sweat-burning ditty came on my Ipod.

He's doing some leg workouts, and after about 10 minutes, I move from my machine to the chest press machine or whatever it is called that makes my pecs burn with the fire of 1000 suns, and he asks how long I'm going to be on that machine. Ok, so the convo was like this (totally could've been our meet cute, if he didn't end up destroying every self-confident fiber of my being):

Old Man from Up: You going to be on that long?

Me: No. Just a few minutes.

OMFU: Oh. Ok.

I listen to 5 seconds of a song.

Me: Do you want to use it? I can use something else.

OMFU: That would be great, I have a doctor's appointment and just want to get a quick workout in before I go. Don't want to run late. *smile*

Me: Sure thing!

Ok, so he goes over and uses the chest press, thanks me again and leaves. I continue with my free weights, then move to the leg machine he was using. I adjust the seat and all that, and then I see it.

The weight is maxed. 190lbs.

Needless to say I CANNOT leg machine 190lbs. I actually only leg machined 55lbs and I am embarrassed. This man is somewhere in the realm of 4 to 4.5 times my age and literally PWNd me. And I'm pretty sure the guy working in my leasing office witnessed the whole thing.


Moral of the story: Don't judge a cute little man with dockers and a ball cap for being weak and precious. He may just be the dose of humility the universe felt you needed that day.


*Footnote: The real embarrassment came from the fact that I left the gym shortly after, not because I was ashamed, but because the directions on the machine I tried to use post-embarrassment were too complicated. #fail