Will run for food
Lori Borgman | Monday, June 08, 2009
The gym I go to is trying to do me in. They took
away the Food Network.
On every treadmill and cross trainer with a little
television attached to it, you used to be able to pound your heart
out while watching some foodie mix up an Italian dish with enough
fat grams to take you through the middle of next week.
Listen, I’m not proud that I watch food shows
when I go to the gym. I would always get a machine on the back row
where no one could see what I was watching. That way I could hold
my head up while I worked out and simultaneously watch someone dump
a chocolate mousse into a pastry shell.
Don’t judge me; at least I was at the gym.
If someone got on the treadmill next to me, I’d
switch to a news channel so I didn’t look like a total slacker but,
the truth is, the Food Network motivated me to workout. Is that
so wrong? (That’s a rhetorical question; don’t answer.)
When the Food Network first disappeared from the
channel selections, I thought maybe the machine I was on wasn’t
getting good satellite reception. So I moved to the machine next
to it. And to the next one and to the next one. After moving to
four different machines, you begin drawing attention to yourself.
I tried 10 different machines and not one of them
gets the Food Network. I’m pretty sure they discontinued it.
So what am I going to do? Sashay up to one of
the trainers -- the ultra-thin, ultra-fit, “I-hate-fat” trainers
-- and demand they bring back the Food Network? Like they care that
I can’t watch Paula Deen lower fritters into a bubbling vat of melted
Crisco.
These trainers are fit. They’re so lean that even
their names are thin: Ki, Rys, Su.
I could mention the situation to the front desk,
but I’m worried the next time I check in, someone will get on the
loud speaker and say, “She’s here -- the woman who vicariously consumes
more calories than she burns during each and every workout. Please
join us in making her feel bloated.”
I considered dropping a note in the suggestion
box, but they have surveillance cameras. And, no, I’m not going
to wear a ski mask.
It’s not like I’m asking them to put vending machines
loaded with Cheetos in the lobby. I just want something besides
news and sports to watch on the tube.
I am not alone here. I am part of a group that
is easily intimidated, and not just because we may carry few extra
pounds and can’t do the high kicks in Tae-bo.
A friend who goes to the same gym has fallen off
the treadmill lately. She worked with a trainer for nine weeks.
Diligently. Faithfully. Young guy, real nice, she got to know him
like a son -- where his family was from, where he was going on vacation.
She sweat and ached and did everything he told her to. She didn’t
get dramatic results, but she was still grateful.
To show her thanks, she made caramel corn for
the front desk and baked the trainer a blueberry pie.
