Feeling rather distraught yesterday at the vision of Annette’s poor little sea monkey Chip, gasping his last as he piteously reaches for his tiny baseball cap, I decide to head to the gym to run away from this vision and everything else that plagues my soul. So I’m on the treadmill at the gym, iPod blaring, lost in my own little world, when out of the corner of my eye I notice someone get on the treadmill next to me. Okay, fine. I like my space, but I guess this is okay for a while. Besides, I had rather foolishly upped my speed to match the cadence of my current song, so I’m trotting along like a hamster on a wheel, trying to not cough up a lung or two.
Now, while I’m a big fan of MSU (Making Shit Up), some things are simply beyond even my feverish little imagination to conjure up. So I kid you not when I tell you that I’m startled by guy-next-to-me, who suddenly starts doing his best Rocky imitation, punching the air. Yes, as if he’s boxing.
Even better, this is accompanied by sound effects. Puf! Bam! Bif! I feel like I’ve been sucked into a Marvel comics book. I look at his screen to see how long this might continue, as it’s just a wee bit distracting, and see he’s on…7 minutes? Good god, this could be lengthy.
But then, just as suddenly as it starts, it’s over. Apparently the Rocky routine was to help him ramp up at the end there, because he stops running at 8 minutes, cools down for 2, then goes off on his merry way. I briefly contemplate trying the Bif-Bam-Pow routine myself, test it out for any potential usefulness, but then I decide no, some things require the proper surroundings, like a boxing ring, or maybe a hockey rink. Some other time.
Speaking of hockey, I have no idea why every time I’m out on the ice, I hear a lot of mumbling about my elbows. Last night it was like a little Greek chorus. Look, people, what else do we have elbows for if not to knock people out of the way??
Please. Suck it up. As I tell the 5-year-olds to whom I teach skating each week, there is no whining in hockey. Ever.