Staring Eyes

Whenever I’m on the road, I have to sign up for a temporary membership at a local gym. I say its to get my strength work and cross training in, but really its more about the jacuzzi and the abnormally large, wall-mounted squirt bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion in the locker room.

Before my therapeutic soak and communal shower today, I spent a good 40 minutes doing core and functional strength training. And people stared at me like I was an alien.

Maybe it was the uber-matching Nike outfit and florescent orange socks (and no shoes).

It might have been because I was balancing on a physio ball on my knees, flapping my arms like a bird with 5 lb. weights.

Or perhaps it was because I was balancing on one leg with my arms and other leg twisted like ropes, my eyes popping out of my head in concentration.

My routine seems so normal when I’m surrounded by other people doing it, but in your average gym, what I do looks pretty strange. Near the end of the session, I felt compelled to pick up some 25’s and grit out some bicep curls just to fit in.