Thursday, June 7, 2012


I got up early to go to gym with GBM the other day... we were up at 6am and I am still completely blown away (sometimes literally) as to how hot this place is. It never drops below 20 degrees, not even overnight. And this is supposedly winter.

Anywho, so we potter across to the gym in our apartment block - moderately equipped, with even less sufficient air-con, but being there first thing in the morning helps somewhat with the heat. GBM hops on a treadmill and gets going. I hop on an elliptical cross-trainer and...

... go nowhere.

I push a few buttons. Nothing. I move to the next one. Push to start, it lights up... I hop on, start treading... and *blip* it all goes off. I move to the last cross-trainer and true to form, it doesn't work.

I swear and curse a bit, as is my usual morning routine, and move to the nearest bike. Right, bum in seat - I can't adjust the height and my legs don't extend far enough to actually pedal. The bike next to it is apparently set for midgets and feeling like Goldilocks on the gym circuit, I give up on all things cyclical and head for the treadmills.

I plug in the one next to GBM, who's still enjoying his run and pretending not to hear the blue-steam exploding from my mouth. I switch it on. I press start. The monitor counts down... 3... 2 ... 1...

Nothing happens.

I reboot, try again. Try to take deep breaths, try to see what I have or haven't pressed which might be causing this complete inertia. Eventually I throw a complete hissy fit, stomp around to give the power switch on the third treadmill a good talking to about actually allowing me to get at least 30 minutes on a functioning apparatus, flick the power switch...

... and trip the building's electrical circuit. Which definitely got my long-suffering boyfriend's attention, and possibly a few other's too. Once the power was back on, GBM gallanting offered me the use of his treadmill (the only functioning one as far as I am aware), and I got a good solid 10minute run in before retiring to the pool for a good sulk.

As a matter of principle, I chose not to return to the gym the next morning, thinking that'd teach those bastard non-functioning appliances for messing with me.

But poor GBM didn't last long at his work out because the treadmill he chose apparently spat him off like a discarded watermelon pip. I was rather sorry to have missed it.

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