Every now and then, when watching The Price Is Right, you’ll come across an episode where during the bidding part of the game, where someone bets something like $500, and then the last bidder bids $501. And if and when $501 wins, you can just see the look of disdain and hate from the person who bid $500.
Well, not really, but it’s fun to imagine that the person who lost by a dollar is infuriated and driven homicidal by the troll who bets a dollar more than they did, and wins.
Anyway, the $1 more person, is an asshole. Sure, they sometimes win, but they’re still an asshole.
I’ve been going to the gym five times a week again now, which makes me generally happy. I like working out regularly, and it makes me feel good about myself, as well as the fact that doing such is good for me. I do a regimen of alternating days of weights and running, as opposed to the times when I would do both, daily. But I’m also no longer in my 20s, and my body sometimes does feel tired and/or my legs heavy, not to mention the fact that I actually like my job, and it would be a disservice to them to take 100 minute breaks so I can run, lift and shower before coming back to work.
As it pertains to my running, I typically run around 15 miles every two weeks. Some weeks, I run three times, other weeks I run twice. On the weeks in which I run three times, I’ve come to the sad realization that I’m 34 and not 24, and trying to basically run a 5K three times a week, at a somewhat competitive 5K pace tends to tire me out now.
So today, I decided to be a little more leisurely with my run. Whereas I normally run at 7.3 mph pace, which typically averages to an 8:12~ mile, I decided I would start at 7.3, and then work my way down as I tired, instead of gutting through 25 straight minutes at pace.
When it comes to treadmills at a gym, I think of them similarly to urinals in the men’s room; dudes should not use adjacent treadmills, unless they are absolutely the only ones left.
In spite of that understanding, a some rando guy saw fit to hop on the treadmill right next to me, despite the fact that there were seven other treadmills that would have been acceptable to use alternatively. Yes, it was a small aggravation, but it wasn’t going to make me deviate from my run. By now, I had completed my first ten minutes, and saw fit to reduce my pace from 7.3 down to 7.0.
That is, until I noticed that he glanced at my treadmill’s readouts, and into his own machine, punched in 7.1, and began running. Motherfucker was using me as his measuring stick.
This, I was not going to stand for. Despite the fact that I was a little fatigued, there was no way I was going to let this slide. I increased my pace back up to 7.3, and took note of the rotation of his head as he tried to be subtle about checking out my pace. Mind you, I had already been running for 15 minutes when his choad decided to try and run with me. I took great pleasure when after just five minutes, he wound down and eventually left, wheezing from the exertion of a 7+ pace.
I kept running at my competitive pace, until the next ten-minute milestone. Seldom do things give me pleasure at the gym than being the first one running, and the last one to finish. Especially when the people less competent than me try and use me as their measuring sticks. Especially by one fucking dollar. F that. I will be nobody’s measuring stick, as long as I can help it.
