It’s been said by yours truly and many others that the hardest part about exercising is getting up and going to the gym. Once you’re there, it’s easy.

I’m going to have to disagree with myself.

Gyms have always been filled with unusual characters. I’ve even blogged about it before. But whereas in the past I have viewed these unusual characters as comedic relief, I’m beginning to think they are part of a widespread conspiracy designed to sabotage my efforts and keep me single forever.

(Paranoid? I’m not paranoid. I wear this hat made out of tinfoil because it’s stylish, not because I think it prevents others from reading my thoughts. That just happens to be an added bonus to wearing the hat.)

The inhabitants of my gym are a virtual who’s who of evil henchman. Though their tactics are different, their goal is the same: To get me out of the gym.

There’s “Smells Like Socks Guy”, who I sincerely believe rubs his entire body with dirty socks before coming inside the gym and grabbing the machine next to me.

There’s the “Two Older People Who Just Happen to Know Each Other”, who decide to take the machines on either side of me so that I get to be in the middle of their inane babbling.

There’s “Guy Who Wants to Talk to Me Even Though I Clearly Have an iPod and Earphones”, who I imagine owns a collection of dolls and displays them all over his home so he has things to talk to at all times.

There’s “Always Talks on the Phone Girl”, who I’m convinced must believe she will instantly die should she ever put down her cell phone. I’m willing for her to take that chance.

There’s “I am Wearing Extra Small Shorts Even Though I Clearly Need Extra Large Girl”, who seems to always use the treadmill directly in front of me. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve prayed to God that He gives those cotton fabrics the strength to hold on until I’ve left the building.

And then there are the usuals. The girls who find it necessary to wear shorts or pants with words written on the butt. The guys who are so hairy it looks as though they are wearing sweaters beneath their tank tops. The guys who inexplicably wear baseball hats at odd angles. The girls and guys who find it necessary to wear cheap perfume and cologne. The guys who spend their time talking to women who are working out rather than actually working out themselves. The guy/girl who is so androgynous I spend my time looking for clues in the hopes for unlocking the answer. 

All of these people assault my senses.

And I’m convinced they are doing it on purpose.

Well, clearly they don’t know who they are messing with. Next time, I’m going to wear two different colored socks to the gym.

That’s right. I’m playing dirty.

Take that, “Guy With Sweat Stain That Resembles Michelle Obama.”