I seemed to have developed some kind of relationship with an older man at my gym. He wears two knee pads, stays at the gym so long in the morning that he frequently changes shirts and he knows every.one.
He is sweet and means well, but when you are locked in a conversation with him, you are locked in like for life.
He give hugs. Sweaty, firm embrace kind of hugs.
This perspiring gent started chatting me up while I was pregnant with SBG. He asked the normal questions about the baby and if my doctor cleared me to workout.
That should have been my first clue to back away slowly and never- ever- turn back.
I recently made the colossal mistake of telling him I am training for a bit race in September. Now he checks in every time I see him (at least three times a week) about how my latest run.
Howlong?Howfast?How'syourhip/knee/ankle?Didyoudrinkenoughwater?Makesureyoueatprotein.
Fine, fine. FINE.
At my gym there are two tiers of treadmills. The lower tier is made up of the newer models.
On Thursday The Gym-Man was on the upper tier, apparently watching me run. About 2 miles into my run he came up to me and said, "Hey Nikkiiiiii! Looking gooooood! I was watching you run and there's no jiggle at all girl."
I kind of stumbled through a response that involved praising God for spandex.
Then he followed it up with, "You're solid and sexy." He repeated this so as to hammer home the point.
This morning, I saw him and again, he called me "solid and sexy."
I'm beginning to think all my running isn't working- solid? and sexy by geriatric standards, is not exactly the look I am aiming for.
Although, I guess it could be worse. Remember this?
