Since we no longer have exercise facilities like we did at our apartment, and our basement is a depressing place with few level spots for a treadmill, we joined the Roslindale Community Center for our fitness needs. It's nothing fancy, a running track, a couple treadmills, one of which usually works, one functional rowing machine, one functional stationary bike and a weight machine. One of the treadmills was apparently designed by Doc Brown, but instead of time traveling when it hits 88 MPH, this machine stops on a dime when it hits about 12 MPH. I've broken it twice and tonight was the first night it was up and running in about a month. I stayed off of it. Note, I do not run 12 MPH, the speedometer is ~25% fast by my calculations.
But the place has its charms. The fitness area overlooks a basketball court where they have youth basketball practice. If you can't get a small kick out of watching 3-9 year-old kids run practice drills, man, you're dead inside. If you get TOO big of a kick out of watching young kids run practice drills, however, please do not become my child's scout master. There's a cute little girl who always wears a pink t-shirt and socks to match her pink basketball, and a very determined little Asian kid, maybe three years old, who despite throwing every ounce of force he can muster behind every shot, has never propelled a ball to rim height. When he makes his first basket I shall rush the court and carry him off on my shoulders.
Recently, they've started giving youth golf lessons a couple nights a week. The first night, the long winded, Ricky Riccardoesque instructor went over lots of boring stuff like golf safety and etiquette, eventually making them practice ducking and covering when he yelled fore. Although important, watching their enthusiasm turn to bored frustration as the minutes ticked by without them getting to so much as hold a club was rather entertaining. Kids are not known for their ability to hide their emotions. Tonight, they actually got to hit whiffle balls off mats. One kid was a natural and was quickly launching balls up onto the running track. I had a mini chuckle when I whizzed about two feet in front of Liz's face as she ran by.
The place is not all cute kids and sound cardiovascular health, however. There is a mother and daughter that come in once or twice a week with the daughter's four young children. As the adults hog the treadmills and walk, literally, as slow as is physically possible to walk (think Israelites hauling pyramid stones), the kids run amok. Now, I know it's a community center and not the Boston Athletic Club, it costs 50$ a year for a family membership and it is there for the use of the whole community, but come on. First, they constantly get off the treadmills to go yell at the kids, greatly prolonging the time their "workouts" take. Second, why don't you just walk around the running track, or do something else with requiring a similar level of exertion like stand in your living room with one arm held above your head. Why don't I just run around the track, you ask? I do, but it's so small that it hurts my ankles to take the turns at the lightning speed at which I run. Tonight, when grandma finally vacated her mill and I stepped on, the youngest kid, now forced/expected to sit quietly in a chair between the machines while his mom lumbered, held out his hand to me in a "give me something" gesture as his older sister twirled around one of the roof support beams (a pole, if you will). I may have uttered the phrase "Better get used to it, kids," but it was definitely said out the side of my mouth and was almost certainly inaudible. Another regular comes in with his girlfriend (also a molasses treadmill walker) and smells very, very bad. Like when he runs around the track his musk permeates the whole gymnasium bad. Although they are probably Haitian they speak, I kid you not, French. What is it about that language that renders you incapable of basic hygiene. I know I should be happy that the economically challenged are being proactive about physical activity, but I'll mostly just be happy when it's nice enough to run outside. OK, off to my Archie Bunker chair to watch The Office.
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