The Scariest Part of the Gym

It's not the boot camp class. Or the camel toe I get if I pull my spandex shorts up to high. It's not the sweat stains, or the germs on top of germs on top of the mat that I use to do my pushups and situps. Lately, the scariest part of the gym is when I have to input my age.

It used to take many finger punches to get to my age. Now it's about 3 or 5. I'm at 28 before my finger even gets warmed up! Sometimes I think about lying and putting in 21. But then I feel guilty. As if the treadmill is going to know and, in retailiation, speed up and cause me to trip and fly off the moving object.

So I never lie. It's too risk. And I now slowly punch the button to get to my actual age before I begin trying to jump start my ever-slowing metabolism.