a sweaty, sweaty place

The gym. The stinky action-packed, meat-head, and eating disorder filled place sometimes makes me want to vomit. It's a place of wanna-be go-getters who believe one more rep will boost their ego and metabolism up one more notch. It's a place full of skinny people getting skinner. It's a place of repetition. It's a place of some people legitimately trying to give themselves a healthy life. It's a place of sweaty, sweaty people. Who decided that gyms were a good idea anyways? Yes, let's put a bunch of really heavy objects in a room and go lift them to see who is all that is man. On the flip side for the women - "I bet I can elliptical faster than you!". Oh the joys of this petty little sweat box. As much as I am definitely trying to treat the gym in a sarcastic manner and attempt to belittle everyone who is serious in here, I must admit that once upon a time I was, in fact, a gym rat.

For me, high school was all about basketball. When I wasn't shooting, I was working out and lifting weights. And when I wasn't lifting weights I was eating peanut butter. Protein. Num num. That was my life. My identity. I wanted to play college ball. Then senior year came around and I had surgery on my legs (basically because I jacked'em up practicing too hard, too much, and too often) and my whole perspective changed. I went off to college on no scholarship of any kind with my only sense of who I am being basketball. And there I was, but basketball was no where to be found. That year I naturally gained the freshmen 15...well 25 in my case and was unhappy because I didn't know who I was. College has been a battle of back and forth thoughts of who I am, changing majors 4 times, transferring schools and transferring back, etc etc. But finally, the beginning of my senior year, I can tell you 100% who I am, what I love, and what I'm about. Some people have a straight shot life. They know what they want to do and they go forth and conquer. Mine, not so much. But I wouldn't change it for the world.

As I'm sitting here in the gym writing this, I'm reminded of my journey and where it started. Sometimes I have an urge to go lift weights to remember my glory days, but then reality hits me that I could go lift for 10 minutes and I'd bulk up like Mrs. Hulk. Not worth it. So I've sworn off weights and taken other interests. But the gym reminds me of who I am, who I want to be, and who I never want to be again. I only hope now that the poor girl sweating on the elliptical figures out who she is before turning up the speed one more time.