What was up with this week? I felt sort of worn out nearly every night, even when I hadn’t worked out that day. My guess is that I’ve spent the last few weeks shoving myself along through all the snowing and the souping, all the while I kept telling myself: this is as hard as it gets; it gets easier after this; if I can do this now just think what a breeze it’ll be in the spring; go me go. And so on.
And then it got warm, and the snow started to melt, and there I was all bundled up tight in my own resolve, which suddenly felt heavy and uncomfortable. I suppose I needed to relax. I skipped a gym night. I got in bed early the other night and read a bunch of East Village Inkys that Chris had gotten me. I think that helped.
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We’re still doing the Lifting Weights to Hateful Pop Remixes class (heretofore called Weights & Hates). Wrongy Lady stopped coming to the class a long time ago, as I knew she would. But now we have Crazy Pants. Crazy Pants wears plaid flannel pajama pants and is in his forties, I think. In the class we all use plain old bars and plates specially made for the class, but Crazy Pants brings in a pile of extra stuff from the free-weight area: ankle weights, two pairs of massive iron dumbbells, a big honking 50 lb thingy. It’s all strewn out on the floor next to his step platform. It looks like he’s building a fucking robot. He could keep all this stuff in front of his bench, where it would be more out of everyone’s way, and surely with his strength he could reach a little farther for the seven extra weights his crazy muscles crave, yes? But this is not the way of the Crazy Pants.
He doesn’t come to class to do the class, really. He does a special parallel universe-version of Weights & Hates involving higher weights and fewer reps and lots of random flailing around. Sometimes when we’re between songs and the rest of us are adjusting our bars, he’ll grab his special crazy weights and toss off a quick set of curls or extensions or deadlifts or rows or squats triple axels or lindys or bootyclaps or whatever the hell it is he does. But perhaps he knows what he is doing. And actually, if he came to class every Monday and Wednesday morning like most of the rest of us do, I would have a great deal more respect for him and his manic muscle ways. But he only shows up every now and then, and he’s all, look at me! Gaaarrr! I am working so haarrrd!
Chris has a theory that Crazy Pants puts his pants on in the morning and they tell him what do to and where to go, and he doesn’t get a say in any of it. What if he belongs to several gyms and his pants march him to a different one every day? If so, perhaps you’ve seen him. Tell him we say hello.
His pants would have to be really dedicated to get him down to Florida so I could see him. On the other hand, once your pants have gotten crazy enough to start controlling you, maybe there’s just no stopping them. Next stop: Tahiti.
Sadly, I have lazy-pants…were not going anywhere…
Your Dec. Wrongy Lady post has become a family classic after I shared it with my sister. (We are slackers who work out on the back row of our gym’s Step class.)
There are two different Wrongy People who come to our class. When either one (W. Man or W. Lady) sets up a bench in front of us, there can be no eye contact between Little Sister and me or we will lose it completely. (Completely. This has happened.)
We are Swedish and as white as they come, but at least we can move in time with the music. W.Lady merely has no rhythm, but W. Man takes it to a whole new level. Not only can he NOT feel the beat, he can not sense how *HARD* he should execute his aerobic moves.
They are done so jerkily, so VIOLENTLY, that everyone behind him prepares for bodily injury…either his or ours. Once the music begins, Wrongy Man is a blur of fire-engine red shorts, pale elbows, and coarse black leg hair…
Crazy Pants may be the discouraged, unemployed brother of the guy who graced my gym in the late 80’s. It was the nautilus heyday – all nautilus, all the time.
There was a guy who made incredible “HRRGGGHHH!” and “AAARRWW!” noises while lifting, followed by heavy breathing afterwards. Once, I got curious to see what kind of weight this colossus was lifting. I was amazed to see that his weights were all lower than mine. Even chest. Even biceps. Everything I had been doing quietly and without drama, or even much effort.
LOL!
I have pants that tell me what to do, but they’re summer pants so all winter long I just sit around lost. Maybe next summer I’ll ask the summer pants what to do about this.
I have a guy at my gym similar to Sarah’s. I always worry he is going to hurt himself. He, however, puts tons of weight on and then it takes him forever to do a single lift. Huurrrruuuunnnnnnnggggggghhh (five minutes later) ARGH! And that’s one. Now he’s sweating, red, and the veins on his forehead are popping out. That cannot be healthy. Then, he sits there and pants for a minute, and does another lift. And he goes through basically all of the weight machines in the place
This almost makes me want to join a gym to see all the funny people. Except I’m afraid that I would be someone’s Crazy Pantsed Wrongy Lady and that’s a risk I just can’t take. That and the fact that I, too, have the lazy pants.
Yes, but wrongy people is really wrong in Yoga; they breathe on you. Wrongly. Wetly. Heavily. While you are trying to be one with the universe, so you end up wanting to be one with the furthest possible wall. Of the next room.
Hey Wendy,
Maybe you could put together a Wrongy Person workout video! All the wrongys in one place – I’d pay to see it.
I’m in California and these days I am lucky to be wearing anypants (of course I wear underwear but I am home with my off track daughter and we sit on the computer all day in our pajamas). You are sooo funny and I am so glad you’re back!
Oh. Those I call ‘yoga spazzes’. They breathe REALLY attention-grabbingly, overdo all of the poses, and yell ‘ohm’ w-a-y too loud.
Oh I am loving the people watching at the gym. I was always concentrating way too hard on getting myself there in the first place & doing something productive enough to burn calories to see these gems of entertainment. Great blog! Thanks for the great laugh.
I heard about an awesome wrongy guy. I live in SF where people take their yoga really, really seriously. This guy I know goes to a yoga studio and takes super advanced classes and says there’s one guy who gets into the yoga mood by doing CARTWHEELS AROUND THE ROOM while everyone else is sitting in meditation-position, getting serene. Or attempting to.
I think if I were there and managed to trip him during his cartwheels, I would instantly achieve Nirvana.
I used to be Madame Crazypants. I thought it was cute or funky or something. Don’t worry, I’ve since been cured.
There was a new Wrongy Lady in our BodyPump class today (the West Texas version of Chicago’s “Weights & Hates”), and I instantly thought of this post and the comments it inspired!
The worst part was that when I noticed the *intensity* of her Wronginess, the song “What’s Going On?” by 4 Non Blondes was playing. I nearly laughed out loud.
What WAS going on, indeed? What in the world were you doing with your bar, W. Lady? (Two up, two down. Three up, one down. It’s NOT that hard…) 🙂