Two days ago, (I'll admit, yesterday, I was in no shape to train as I was recovering from the worse hangover ever) I was on a treadmill in the morning before work. There are three treadmills in my condo gym, so I take the one on the far right. There's a strategy to this...you take the far end, the next person takes the other far end (leaving a nice space in between) and then, when it does get busy, that last spot gets taken up. It's like seating on the TTC...when there's seats everywhere, you don't go and sit beside the only person on the streetcar.
Apparently, someone didn't tell this man the proper etiquette (we'll call him Bob, as it's one letter away from Boob, of which he had two). Bob struts into the gym, onto the treadmill beside mine. After a friendly nod, I thought, OK, just focus on your workout and crank up the music. He begins to let out some loud breaths while stretching...yea, he hasn't even started yet. As he stretches, a good five minutes go by, and I wonder - rather than stretching on the treadmill and taking a spot away from someone ready to run, why don't you stretch in the studio area? Whatever, back to my run...focus Terence, focus.
Bob then starts running, at a mild pace. Not two minutes later, he's huffing and puffing like he's at the last part of a torturous marathon - face red, sweat streaming down the sides of his face, pit stains the size of Lake Victoria. As I turn my iPod up to the maximum level before my ears bleed, I start smelling the smell of rancid eggs. I look around, and there were only four people in the gym - Bob, myself and two people working in the distance at the weights.
Being the utterly insecure person that I am, I first do a self check by pretending to wipe my face on my sleeves and making sure it wasn't my armpits emitting that odour. Check - they actually smell Tide Mountain Spring fresh.
I then look at the two people away in the distance in the weight area. They did not have the same contorted face of disgust as I did on my face. So by process of elimination, Bob was the offender.
Now, at first I thought, aww shit, it's BO. But the smell didn't come in a steady stream as BO would. Then I heard it. At first, a pop then fizzling. Yes, it was that loud that I heard it through my iPod music. Bob at this point didn't seem to care that he was contributing to the emission of greenhouse gases, he was more focused on trying not to have a heart attack. I, on the other hand, was grossed out beyond belief.
How, at 7am in the morning, can you have gas that is that intense? How are you not ashamed that you're releasing that evil onto the world? How do you not kindly excuse yourself and go to the washroom to get that issue resolved?
As these questions flooded through my head, thankfully, I was close to the end of my 30min run. But it wasn't until he released another barrage of air WMDs into the gym and this time, I think the people at the weights heard as they looked up and giggled.
Dude - you might be running, but you're running on a stationary piece of equipment. It's not like outside where you are far far away from your mischevious deed and no one can pinpoint it is you.
That was it. I stopped my treadmill - took a deep breath in from my mouth to avoid smelling anything, and quickly wiped down my machine before running into the studio to work away from Bob's stench.
My hope is that Bob felt that his run was so strenuous that he won't be back in the gym for a while, but I might have to stop working out in the mornings to avoid exposing myself to nauseous gases.
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