To Working Out

Going for a run and working out are very different things, even if really they aren’t. Going for a run means lacing up my shoes and heading out the door. Or it means meeting Jill at the trail on a Saturday morning. But working out is what I do at the gym, even if it’s running.

Working out involves the active ignoring of people throughout the whole run. Running is just running.

At the gym, my students work at the front desk. Sometimes two of them at once. We chat and I like to see them. I ask them how busy it today. “Not too bad,” they say, but I don’t know what they are judging it on. I head down to the locker room, hoping to spot at least one person with grey hair on the treadmills as I go by. Otherwise it’s just me and a bunch of 20-somethings.

In the locker room, I ignore the young women around me talking about Spanish tests and laundry and plans for the weekend. Actually, I don’t ignore them. I still love to eavesdrop. Any snippet of conversation is interesting. I especially want to hear them talk about their professors and their classes. But I want them to think I am ignoring them.

On the top floor, the indoor track has a couple walkers. I start out slow but still pass them twice before my warm up is over. I think one is someone I know; she works somewhere on campus, I think I’ve seen her at events. But I don’t know her name and now, I am only seeing the back of her head. I don’t want to turn when I pass to see if it’s her. If it is, I will have to wave, say hi and if it isn’t, I will still have to smile in some way that lets her know she’s not who I thought she was. So I ignore her.

http://www.uofazips.com/images/fieldhouse03.jpg

I ignore the woman with the long ponytail who I imagine must be on the track team. Her warm up laps are faster than my fastest laps. She passes me twice before I complete one and I think “Good for her!” with about 70% sincerity and 30% jealousy. I became a runner after college and was never part of a team. I was never an athlete. I ignore the sudden rising melancholy for a life I never had.

At the end, 5 indoor-track miles later, I’m exhausted. Not from the run, but the mental gymnastics, always the bigger workout. Ignore the boredom, ignore the people, ignore the fact that I run more slowly every winter. Just go.