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The possibility that I am a moron strongly exists.


Yesterday I chronicled my misadventures with a fence. All I wanted was to do a speed workout but 8′ (height not width) of chain link separated me and my dream nightmare thing I was going to do. I was pretty annoyed that I had to abort Operation: Get Fast and was all set to pen an angry missive that included boldface CAPITAL letters complaining about lack of track access and touting my rights as a tax payer (now that I am a tax payer I can say those asshole things). Fortunately I held off putting quill to parchment  because it turns out (are you sitting down?) I am just plain, old fucking stupid. 

According to fellow mother runner and Irondequoitite (is that what they call us?) Martha, if you enter the campus from Gardham Road and park in the small dirt parking lot to the right, you can enter the track through a maze of fences. You’d think I would have been able to figure that out. I mean, it’s not Sudoku. Why does my library degree fail me at every turn?

Today I headed back to IHS to use the weight room. It’s open Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings from 5:30-6:30 AM and it cost $2 a pop. I was not going to be tricked this time and made sure I knew where the heck I was going. I checked and double checked (and triple checked as I was heading out the door at 5:20) that you “enter North entrance #3, go straight, second door on the left.” I knew where entrance #3 was because that is where I had dropped Madylin off for her Red Cross classes the day I didn’t allow her to celebrate Columbus Day. I was set!

Just as I was leaving a pretty crazy thunderstorm rolled in. The lightning was what I would call “scary” and “likely to electrocute me.” I parked as close as I could to entrance #3 and ran to the doors. They were locked. I was still a few minutes early, so I ran back to my car and waited 5 minutes. Then I ran back to entrance #3–through the torrential downpours–and tried the doors again. Still locked!(!!!) I was actually wearing my glasses today so I was able to spy a high schooly boy ride his bike up to entrance #4 and go in. WTF? and A-HA! I ran around the side of the building and found entrance #4 unlocked and the weight room straight ahead.

The weight room is just ok. I was expecting more because the pool and outdoor facilities are so fantastic, but the weight room was ho-hum. (Although, who am I to judge because when I was in high school our weight room was in a hallway?) There were some treadmills, steppers, ellipticals, and upright and recumbent bikes. There were also various and assorted weight machines, bench press apparatus (the plural is NOT apparati, I checked) of which I am terrified, a long rack of dumbbells, yoga mats that I will never use because high schoolers are gross and covered in lice and herpes, exercise balls, medicine balls, a Bosu ball, ropes, jump ropes, and kettle bells. (Who knew I was so damn observant?) There was also a gigantic boom box (not turned on), a flat screen TV (also not turned on), cubbies to put things in, and a guy on the treadmill who reminded me of my old running buddy, Bob, because he was wearing a navy blue tank top and had a mustache. He was wearing a hat though, and I don’t think Bob would ever let a cap muss his ‘do.

I warmed up on the elliptical, did 25:00 of upper body weights, and 20:00 of lower body weights. I had been hoping to get a full hour in the weight room but because I ran around like a headless chicken idiot in the rain for a while, I missed out. The Person In Charge of the weight room reminded me of an elementary school gym teacher–both in choice of tube socks and gender neutral haircut (I really hope PIC never reads this because PIC could maybe very likely most definitely kick my ass). All was going well until 6:26 when PIC was all “You have to finish up soon!” interrupting a set of dead lifts AND making me pause my iPod. I asked “We have until 6:30, right?” (but it was more of a statement than I question). I’d like to get my whole $2 worth, you know? (I didn’t say that part, just in case you didn’t see the end quotes after “right?”) PIC was like “Yeah, but I need to be outta here by 6:30!(!!!)” Then why not just change the weight room hours to 5:25-6:25? A.N.N.O.Y.I.N.G. (That’s not an acronym for anything; I just wanted to emphasize how annoying I thought this was. Almost as annoying as the Levittown Public Library employes who stand next to you shouting “We close in 20 minutes! We close in 19 minutes! We close in 18 minutes!…” until you start shooting up the place like Michael Douglas in Falling Down.)


I quickly finished lest I be challenged to an arm wrestling contest that I would lose, paid the Person, and headed home. I was going to exit via Gardham Road to scope out the track entrance but I decided I didn’t need to be proved dumb so early in the morning. In my heart of hearts, I knew Martha was right and I was barely getting through life plagued with such stupids. But at least I am going to have sick tri’s.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. 10/29/2011 8:28 PM

    Pehaps the best title to a blog post ever.

    • Suzanne permalink*
      10/30/2011 2:22 PM

      Irony–I originally spelled a word in the title wrong.

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