Trial Pass

I went to the YMCA this morning, by myself of course. Exercising is a private sort of activity. Or maybe it was the state of mind I was in today that made me feel the need to privatize my exercise regime this morning: I've been PMSing for the last twelve decades and the clouds and raindrops have drown me in a bathtub of despair and woe.

I had a 3-day trial pass.

I've been to the YMCA a lot (my mom brings me on her guest passes, we do yoga together).

I had to fill out a guest questionaire sheet.

I don't know how my fibbing began, but it did...

I acted as if:

a. I was older than I was.

b. I had never stepped foot in a YMCA before.

c. I was an exercise-obsessed person who was looking for a change from an old health club.

The woman at the front desk insisted that somebody give me a tour of the facility. I didn't agree or disagree...thus, a woman in a red YMCA polo showed up to escort me. I thought this was funny.

After the tour, I was set free to exercise.

The tour lady noticed I didn't have a lock for a locker, so she went to the front desk and grabbed a nickel so I could use one of their locker systems...I never did find the nickel lockers...and I was too scared to ask...so I stuffed my stuff in a shifty locker...and kept the nickel.

I found a treadmill free of people on either side.

I ran.

I got my stuff out of the shifty locker.

I left.

Keela

p.s Treadmills were introduced to prisons in 1779. They resembled a paddle wheel and generated power for mills. A typical treadmill shift lasted 8 hours for a prisoner...meaning they would raise the lower half of their bodies over 11,000 ft. per shift.

ROUGH.