This was my second week...
...at a new gym, with an eagerly athletic (and incredibly patronising when it came to fitness) new bloke in tow. I was desperately trying to give off the impression that I knew what I was doing and that I, too, was a super-fit gym-bunny (and not a student layabout whose only exercise came from pushing her luck!). Therefore, dressed to impress (or so I thought at the time) in full make-up and skin-tight lycra (I must have looked like a total twat), I clambered aboard the treadmill next to his. Warming up quickly, I glanced over at his settings and notched my speed up to out-do him. The pace was fast and I was just about handling it. He looked over at me and, smiling, notched his machine up another couple of mph. I matched him, breathless, red-faced and sweating, concentrating hard, very hard, to keep my legs moving quickly enough....

....Until a hair grip flew out of my hair and I, with a gut reaction, turned around to grab it, flew off the machine, face-planted the wall behind and slunk out of the room in shame (and pain!) to the applause and raucous laughter of the entire room.

Once I had stopped bleeding and he had stopped laughing, we had words and joint gym-time ceased. These days neither of us bother, he's gained a few stone thanks to a lazy desk job. I'm eating a rhubarb pie as i type! Gyms are dangerous, expensive and humiliating- just go outside!
(Bob Frapples is de-lurking on, Tue 14 Jul 2009, 22:20, Reply)