Gyms
Went to the gym for the first time in two months yesterday. Thought I might as well get used to the place - I'll be spending the next nine or so months there, after all. Funny places, gyms. Funny word, too. A bit like pygmy, but different. Gotta love a y in the wrong place.
Like I was saying, they're funny places. Everyone wears an iPod, usually awkwardly strapped to their arm like one of those pumpy-air-pressure-measuring things. Yesterday was the first time I was able to join these super-healthy, bouncy-jogging, iPod-wearing hoards in their natural environment. Alas, I was sans arm strap, but I still felt, like, cool man - though that was before I had to fumble around getting the headphones up under my t-shirt, and then to stay in my ears when I got on the treadmill.
That's when I realised that everyone who wears an iPod down the gym has a curious musical cacophany accompanying their huffing and puffing. You see, unless you've got some big, fancy, cover-the-ears-and-go-round-the-back headphones, you'll get a faintly infuriating blend coming through your earhole - the distant beat and hum of one of your favourite songs combined with the slightly more prominent bleat and blare of MTV DANCE HITS MEGA ANTHEMS ALL DAY SUNDAY.
I turned up the volume on my so-tiny-I-can't-find-it-in-my-shorts (fnar) iPod to no avail - and then spent most of the time sticking my tiny little ear pieces as far into my ear as they'd go without drawing blood, just to block out PUT YOUR HANDS UP PUT YOUR HANDS UP FOR DETROIT.
So, iPods aren't as cool down the gym as I thought. Not that I ever really thought they were cool. Just poncey. Seems I got that right - though it was nice, when MTV DANCE gave it a bit of a rest or I was positioned away from one of the gigantic speakers, to hear The Beatles or Sigur Ros or whatever, as I PUMPED IRON / FELT THE BURN / WONDERED WHAT THE HELL I WAS DOING IN THE GYM ON A BRIGHT SUNDAY MORNING.
Back to the gym - I was testing the ol' knee out, so I did some up-hill treadmill walking which felt pretty good. Then I thought I'd give cycling a bash - the physio said I could try it on a zero resistance setting, just to get used to it. It wasn't all that easy. I had to get on the bike first - the limited movement in the leg made that hard, but doable.
But moving the pedals round was a very different kettle of difficult bananas altogether - I very tentatively and weedily went as fast as I could, but then the machine started on-screen yelling at me PEDAL FASTER. I'm trying! PEDAL FASTER. Give me a break! GOING INTO STANDBY MODE. You heartless bastard!
Didn't that crummy little machine know hard I was trying? Nothing like kicking a man when he's down. Useless piece of plastic get-fit CRAP. It's just jealous it's not a REAL bike that can, like, go outside and go down hills and get muddy and splash in puddles and everything. Wanker.
Like I was saying, they're funny places. Everyone wears an iPod, usually awkwardly strapped to their arm like one of those pumpy-air-pressure-measuring things. Yesterday was the first time I was able to join these super-healthy, bouncy-jogging, iPod-wearing hoards in their natural environment. Alas, I was sans arm strap, but I still felt, like, cool man - though that was before I had to fumble around getting the headphones up under my t-shirt, and then to stay in my ears when I got on the treadmill.
That's when I realised that everyone who wears an iPod down the gym has a curious musical cacophany accompanying their huffing and puffing. You see, unless you've got some big, fancy, cover-the-ears-and-go-round-the-back headphones, you'll get a faintly infuriating blend coming through your earhole - the distant beat and hum of one of your favourite songs combined with the slightly more prominent bleat and blare of MTV DANCE HITS MEGA ANTHEMS ALL DAY SUNDAY.
I turned up the volume on my so-tiny-I-can't-find-it-in-my-shorts (fnar) iPod to no avail - and then spent most of the time sticking my tiny little ear pieces as far into my ear as they'd go without drawing blood, just to block out PUT YOUR HANDS UP PUT YOUR HANDS UP FOR DETROIT.
So, iPods aren't as cool down the gym as I thought. Not that I ever really thought they were cool. Just poncey. Seems I got that right - though it was nice, when MTV DANCE gave it a bit of a rest or I was positioned away from one of the gigantic speakers, to hear The Beatles or Sigur Ros or whatever, as I PUMPED IRON / FELT THE BURN / WONDERED WHAT THE HELL I WAS DOING IN THE GYM ON A BRIGHT SUNDAY MORNING.
Back to the gym - I was testing the ol' knee out, so I did some up-hill treadmill walking which felt pretty good. Then I thought I'd give cycling a bash - the physio said I could try it on a zero resistance setting, just to get used to it. It wasn't all that easy. I had to get on the bike first - the limited movement in the leg made that hard, but doable.
But moving the pedals round was a very different kettle of difficult bananas altogether - I very tentatively and weedily went as fast as I could, but then the machine started on-screen yelling at me PEDAL FASTER. I'm trying! PEDAL FASTER. Give me a break! GOING INTO STANDBY MODE. You heartless bastard!
Didn't that crummy little machine know hard I was trying? Nothing like kicking a man when he's down. Useless piece of plastic get-fit CRAP. It's just jealous it's not a REAL bike that can, like, go outside and go down hills and get muddy and splash in puddles and everything. Wanker.
Labels: ACL reconstruction, Gym, physiotherapy
posted by Badger at 7:20 PM
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