Yeah. Thanks. Jerk.

I recently restarted my journey to attempt to lose weight and get back in the same shape I was in high school. Well, as close as I can at least.

I joined the YMCA and found a surprisingly updated facility with state of the art equipment, excellent classes to keep you sweating, and extreme affordability.

It’s a known fact that you can’t just start off attempting to run miles nor should I try to sprint on the first day. I need to gradually work my way up to that.

No problem.

So that first day I step on the treadmill and enter my personal log ID number, which was assigned by a fitness instructor. This number allows me to track my progress and exactly what I’ve done, burned, etc.

As I warm up, I continue to increase my speed. I get up to 3.6, which is a steady very fast pace walk. I’m sweating, my heart rate is high and I’m feeling like I’m really burning off the calories.

I feel good about my workout. Feels good that I’m actually doing it again. Not talking about it, but doing it. I walk and sweat with a sense of pride as I periodically wipe the beads of sweat off my face.

Then it happens.

This guy comes up on the machine next to me who looks like he’s at least 10 years older than me. He starts his machine and immediately increases his speed to 8.3. He’s running in place so fast that he almost seems like he’s running past me on the treadmill .He’s sprinting in place with barely any effort, as if he might as well be sitting somewhere.

And I’m stuck on my little 3.6 speed. Looking real stupid.

Yeah. Thanks. Jerk.

I hate working out in public when I’m just getting started.

And as I’m shooting him the evil look out the side of my eye for having the nerve to consistently work out and take care of himself, I realize that it takes effort to shoot someone an evil look while you’re walking fast in place. I almost stumble on the treadmill and have to regain myself.

As if I didn’t look stupid enough before.

I need a treadmill in the house