An Open Letter to the Old People at My Gym

Dear old people at the gym,

        Sometimes I have bad thoughts about you. I blame you guys for the fact that two TVs are turned to Fox "News" and none are turned to MSNBC. I get annoyed when you have super loud conversations when I'm trying to relax and stretch. And I roll my eyes when you have those conversations while standing in the middle of a walk way.

But the next asshat (thanks to my college friend for reminding me about that descriptive word) who grumbles about how slowly you're walking on the treadmill or how "those recumbent bikes are pointless"  is going to get a smack. I think it's AWESOME that you're still working out. Inspiring, even. Some people of a certain age just kind of give up on improving themselves. But not you guys. I hope I'm still working out at your age.

(I also hope I'm able to go a little faster and that I don't feel compelled to wear jeans, a button down shirt and full make-up, but we don't need to talk about that.)

I notice that there aren't as many of you around these days and I can only hope that means you're all walking outside. I would hate it if those grumbling douche canoes who think every treadmill session is secretly an Olympic sprint event had discouraged you from coming back. They're probably just jealous because they know their steroid use has shortened their life spans and that they'll never get a chance to work out when they're old.

                                                                                           The 42 year old in the yoga pants

I should have explained that I find all but one of you inspiring. One of you, who happens to be most guilty on the loud talking front, is not inspiring. Hearing your rant the other day about why everyone in Kansas just didn't put a basement into their homes or move to (hurricane stricken, flood prone, nor'easter prone) New Jersey was the most ignorant rant I've ever heard. If I ever get as clueless about life beyond my own front door, I hope my children shoot me. 

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