It’s Thursday and my regularly scheduled appointment with trainer J is at 8:30. I usually leave my house around 7:30, arrive at the gym and go upstairs to warm up in the cardio room for 30 minutes or so. It’s not so much about the warming up – I have usually rowed or gone to yoga before our meeting – so much as preparing mentally to be at the gym and working on whatever he has planned.
I frequently the same people I see there at tshis time on Thursdays, but there are always new faces. Today there was a youngish guy running along on one of the treadmills in the series where I like to be, the thundering herd sound was impossible to ignore. Other than that I really did not take much notice, until another member bumped into me and I dropped my phone just in front of his machine. As I was straightening from picking it up, I got an eyeful of the front of the running dude’s shorts. I wish I did not notice, but honestly his package was flopping around all over the place as he was running along and it both embarrassed me that I noticed and made me wonder how that could possibly be comfortable.
Okay, that was bad enough. I do not typically look at strange men’s crotches while they are exercising. Heck, I barely look at the other members in general. But once I had seen that this morning, I found myself looking discreetly at all the other male members I passed wondering if they too were excercising sans drawers. Thankfully common sense and modesty kept me from looking too closely, but my restraint was probably directly related to my “I am going to burn in Hell FOR SURE for this” guilty feelings. And I am not even Catholic.
When I got home I told M about the experience. M, being a runner, says the guy is either a exhibitionist, a masochist, or not really running, because that would NOT be a comfortable experience. He agrees I could possibly be headed to the firey pit for my actions but appreciates that I have kind of a dirty mind and am aspiring to be an amature voyuer. Somehow his very amused commentary was not very comforting.
Ah well. I suppose it could be worse. Of course, it could have always been better, too. If I am going to burn I would really like it to be a more significant, more satisfying sin.