Cycling at the Y with Mr Chattypants

Sunday was our makeup broomball game. I am sore and bruised (I have a huge bruise on my arm that I call a planet – there's just something about it that looks like a picture of a planet). Yesterday I took the day off, since I didn't really get Sunday off. And then today, I thought a nice biking session would help flush some soreness away before another broomball game tonight. So I went to the Y for a cycling class.

I love the Y. Not because it's particularly swanky or nice. There's no café, the locker room has beat up metal lockers and plain tiled shower stalls, and the building's interior cinder blocks remind me more of junior high school than fitness. But it's so functional, and such a damn good representation of real people. I don't get that kind of exposure much anymore.

The cycling class I have gone to (and I think this is maybe the third one I've been to at this time slot) always comes with a bonus of some "characters." There's a large man who strolls in with a slight limp. It seems he comes from the weight/cardio area first, as if he just spends all morning at the Y. If he does, I imagine he lifts some 5 lb weights and mostly talks to whomever is near by. Sometimes he's sweaty, sometimes not. Always a big dirty-white shirt over some pants, and plain white New Balance shoes...the non-flashy kind that are sold over in the dark corner at a running shop.

I have yet to hear this guy's name, but he seems to know everyone: the instructor, regulars in the class, people that walk down the hall. Nothing stops this man from yelling out at someone passing by in the hallway, or bantering with the instructor or other classmates about what pace we're riding.

For me, it is super super super annoying. I can't stand him. I just wish he'd shut up so I can focus on my workout and what the instructor is saying. Stop interrupting the instructor!! But then I think about how he's just being happy, and spreading around his happiness. I try to look at it that way at least. I know that he is in fact being disruptive. And there's no excuse for him to be that way. But people smile and everyone knows him. And he just adds something to the community, with his incessant playful chatting and annoying commentary.

Today, there was another man that added to chatter. All I can gather is he's a local lawyer or judge, again seemed to know everyone, and perhaps is compulsively tired (based on complaining the entire class about our pace). His name was Sal, and Mr Chattyman called him Sally. Together, they were absolutely ridiculous.

But, it's the Y, and I think it's just something I'm going to have to put up with. I'll continue to take my seat on the opposite side of the room where I can see the instructor and try to focus on why I'm there.