slubs in the city

Slub (adj): Maverick; unorthodox; independent in behavior or thought.

yeeeeah…definitely a youtube moment.

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What I’m about to say isn’t revolutionary: our lives are a delicate balance of ups and downs, lights and darks, goods and bads. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. When God closes a door, he opens a window. It’s all about the yin and the yang.

I’ve been riding on a high these past couple of days. Slugging through a large volume of work has translated into an extremely productive month, and Christmas festivities have me feeling unusually social. Our entire Marketing Development department took the StrengthsFinder test this past week, and yesterday was spent bragging about our relative talents and binging on Christmas sweets.  It’s been a very good couple of days. But this, dear readers, is because Monday was a very bad day. The good must always be tempered by a little bad.

I’ve been informed I’m a decent story-teller, so here’s a story for your pleasure:

I’m a member of Snap Fitness, which is a big deal for me because I’m gracelessly un-athletic and prefer being a slub to being fit. The benefit of Snap is that members with a key card have access to any participating gym across the nation. Another benefit is that there’s a gym on the first floor of Thrivent’s building, so I really have no excuse for skipping an evening workout.

On Monday I waltzed past Thrivent’s gym on my way home because I was “just too busy” to work out. Later, at the slub house, I felt like a total ass for being so lazy. To appease my guilt I decided to go to the Snap on Hennepin. I had only been there once before, but everything had gone as well as was to be expected, so I didn’t feel concerned working out there again.

While I was ellipticalling away, I thought of two things:

  1. My lazy ass will soon be transformed into the ass of every girl’s envy. So that’s pretty cool.
  2. However, it’s slightly awkward that everyone behind me can see me doing intervals, mostly because I’m getting quite tired and sweaty.

I was very distracted by these thoughts, so when I had finished swishing away on the elliptical I didn’t pay attention to stepping off the machine properly. Surprised that the ground wasn’t where I had left it, I stumbled over thin air and launched myself backwards, careening towards the row of bikes directly behind me. Thankfully I caught myself before I actually hit anything. Unfortunately, there was a man on one of the bikes who witnessed it all.

I brushed this incident off, transforming my stumble into a pathetically dysfunctional half-swagger as I retreated. It happens to everyone. I’m a young employed professional, so even after diving backwards off an elliptical I’m still doing better than the 99%.

I moved on to the weight machines. Shockingly, this was the least eventful portion of the night.

I decided to end my workout with a little jaunt on the treadmill. I had been stalling to see if the guy who had watched my elliptical fail would leave, but he was intent on becoming TOTALLY RIPPED ARRRRGH and didn’t seem like he was going anywhere soon. So I clambered onto the treadmill and started jogging away – again, in front of the rest of the gym.

I’m envious of people who run. Personally I hate running, but apparently (according to the StrengthsFinder) I have a competitive streak and won’t settle for sucking at something other people enjoy. Over the past month I’ve been observing the beautiful, fit women who use the treadmill at Thrivent and attempting to emulate their ways. I found the perfect opportunity to show people how cool I am when, while running at the Snap on Hennepin, my stupid water bottle started making loud clanking noises from where it sat on the treadmill.

To my somewhat disillusioned mind, this noise was far more embarrassing than anything I had ever experienced in a gym before. I decided to jump on the sides of the treadmill while the belt continued to run and place my water bottle on the floor. This would make everyone else more pleased with me, I was sure, and would also show them how I am the master of all treadmills (even if I am a dunce when it comes to the elliptical).

The water bottle having successfully been moved to the floor, I prepared to hop back on the machine. Without holding on to the sides. Without slowing the track down even a notch.

This is what almost happened.

I jumped. I pedaled hysterically to catch my footing. I regained my balance. Then I burst into a maniacal peel of laughter because I was mortified beyond description, and my mind was reacting to the situation in ways I couldn’t control.

There I was, the pasty white girl who had mere minutes previously fallen off the elliptical machine, cackling uncontrollably as I ran and desperately watching the TV above my treadmill (tuned to the Military History channel, wtf) in an attempt to regain composure. At that point there was really nothing for it, so instead of leaving Snap with my tail between my legs I continued jogging like I was the undisputed queen of the gym. The girl who was on the treadmill beside me would have undoubtedly argued the point.

As I ran I grew more and more emotionally confused until finally I decided the entire gym was a piece of crap, so after jogging a mile I got off the machine and called it a day. I left Snap in a disgruntled huff.

5 minutes later I returned, defeated, because I had forgotten my water bottle.

You guys: I am officially that girl.


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