Sooooo… they tell me it’s a low grade stress fracture and I shouldn’t be running for a while. Could be 6 weeks. Could be 12 weeks.
I’m already on new meds for the dopamine withdrawal!
This has forced me to do the unthinkable. I’ve joined a gym. And I hate it. I knew I’d hate it and everything I suspected about gyms is true.
Unlike running, you can’t just walk out the door — you have to drive there. And then drive back when you’re done rather than, ya know, finishing at your front door.
Unlike running, you don’t actually go anywhere once you’re there exercising. You’re just in one place. Stuck there. Like a Sartre play.
Unlike running, other people are using the equipment and don’t always wipe them down with handi-wipes when they finish. I’m not even sure what the etiquette and protocol is at this place because my “orientation tour” was much more of a “for an extra fee you can do this… and for an extra fee you can do that…”
Unlike running, the gym is where you go when you can’t do nothing else. Like run.
It’s a sad place. Filled with sad people. Spinning round on their hamster wheels, picking things up only to put them back down in the same place. What are we doing here? There’s a whole world outside you can see and hear and experience. And you only need a pair of running shoes.
And not to hurt when you do it.
It’s that last part I’m struggling with right now.
Dammit. I hate gyms. I hate their stupid sweaty faces and their stupid laminated class schedules and their stupid stationary locations. I hate it, hate it, hate it.
So I’m going three times a week.
