Story time.
So, here's the thing. I love my gym. LOVE. We belong to our local YMCA, and it's exactly what I pictured a YMCA would be in my head. And I mean that in the good and bad way. It's small and everyone knows everyone. It has a real community feel and I LOVE that. The childcare workers know and love B and that is so, so important. It's also the crappiest, smallest gym I've ever belonged to. And, again, I love my gym. It's just your quintessential YMCA-- it's dated and the options are limited. There are FOUR treadmills. Total. Maybe 6 ellipticals. No indoor pool. No track.
Why does any of this matter? I've been gym-ing 5ish days a week pretty consistently. Walking on an incline on the treadmill, ellipticalling, and rowing.
However.
Lately, if I go at 9am there's a man there. Ok, there are several men there. However, there is ONE man there that I just can't even handle. He smells and I mean REAKS of smoke. He pours sweat and the more he sweats the more it smells. I have literally had to move machines because it's literally hard to breathe next to him. It just smells so bad.
I try HARD to support all gym go-ers. GO YOU! YOU'RE WORKING OUT! THAT'S AWESOME!! GO YOU!! But, guys. I just can't. And lately, because the gym is small, I can't even move machines because it's too crowded and there are no other options.
So, lately I've been working out in a cloud of smoke and trying my very hardest not to breathe while working out. So, that's been fun.
In other news, B's got allergies or a little cold. Poor Peanut Butter. But, don't worry... that doesn't stop her from demolishing some ice cream. Girl is completely obsessed.
