Sports make ya grunt and smell. See, be a thinker, not a stinker.

I'm not going to pretend that I don't care what I look like when I work out. After being initiated into the spandex fold in 1996, I quickly built up a massive amount of shorts and unis, with plenty of matching t-shirts and sports bras to sport while running around regattas, pretending I was important. (sadly, most were left in a room in Winthrop or the basement of a Central Sq apartment, but nevertheless I've still got enough skin tight workout gear to make most people throw up in their mouth a little bit)

But now I'm an "adult" and I belong to a "gym" where people dick around on "machines" and look at you like you are "insane" if you are a female that knows how to "squat". Fuck you, you man with big arms and no lower body -- stop doing bicep curls and go get some quads; you look like The Hulk meets Jimmy from South Park.

Anyway, apparently you are a freak if you sweat at the gym. I've always been a big "sweater", but used to take solace in the fact that Patrick Ewing was also a sweaty dude. (Fun Knick fact: Ewing dropped up to 15 pounds of water weight in games). It's just me and this one svelte old guy in spinning classes that are drenched, while everyone else simply glistens. Thing is, he's a skinny fucker that owns actual biking shorts and shoes -- he looks hard core thus he sweats hard core. I, on the other hand, look like I accidentally fell in the pool while dressed. People step around me so as not to be tainted by the icky cotton t-shirt that looks like it might transmit a disease (I can see the headlines..."Sweaty American Spreads African Sleeping Sickness via Overripe Workout Gear").

Yes, I am now ashamed of my sweat. I have to do all my lifting and stuff before cardio because I'm afraid to touch the "machines" post anything aerobic for fear of castigation by other members (but hey, not like I would understand a word of it anyway). And you know what else I've learned recently that is another "you are no longer a real athlete" downer? A healthy 40-year-old woman should be able to do 16 push ups...in a row. A 40 year old? With the exception of American Gladiator-types, I have yet to see a 40 year old woman do one push up. Meanwhile, I've (depressingly) regressed to girly push-ups. Though, per the long-ago and wise suggestion of Russell, I do attempt to do real push-ups in the privacy of my own home (because otherwise I would embarrass myself…even more…if that’s possible). Personal goal from post-college: Run a marathon. Personal goal today: Do 6 "real" push ups without anyone laughing or giving me a weird look.